The morning after - self-indulgent fluff with maaany tropes and an (un)healthy bit of drama.
TW for verbal abuse.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.
Christmas Morning
When Éowyn woke up, she had hair in her face. Well, that wasn't anything new, especially not with hair as long as hers, but that was exactly the reason why she didn't carry her locks open in bed - it would get incredibly tangled. Said hair currently tickling her nose also didn't smell like her super-organic bloody expensive hair shampoo - no, it smelt far spicier, addicting, familiar and strange at the same time. A smell that didn't match the feeling of her soft silky sheets under her naked skin - why was she naked?!
Suddenly, the memories of the night started to crash into her sleep-muddled brain, memories of kisses and touches and whispered 'please' and 'more' and the sounds he had made - or had it been her? She - Éowyn Eorl - had brought a basically stranger into her flat, into her bed, and she had enjoyed it. Far too much, probably, since she couldn't find it in her to regret any of it. A small part of her told her that she should, but at the same time she couldn't quite remember why. Consenting adults, safe and sane - no reason to panic, she told herself.
Slowly, she started to take notice of her body - she was naked, obviously, pressed against a very naked and very male body. Their legs were entangled under the covers, one of her thighs was caught between his. Faramir - because obviously she remembered who the man was - was on his back with her partly next and partly on top of him. He was holding her close to his chest, hands splayed wide across her back as if he wanted to cover as much skin as possible. She wondered briefly whether one of his arms hadn't gone numb in the meantime. One of her own arms was wrapped across his upper body like part of a weird starfish, and apparently her own face had been buried against his neck and into his silky hair.
Way to go Éowyn, very sexy.
She gingerly popped herself up onto her right elbow and looked down on the sleeping man. He didn't really seem younger that way, no matter what the stories said about the effects of sleep, but he certainly seemed less troubled. His mouth was relaxed, almost smiling, the thin lines around his eyes gone. It struck her again how handsome she found him - so it hadn't been just the haze of last night, it was a general thing. Faramir Steward was crazily hot.
Maybe he had felt her shift or maybe he had felt her stare, in any case something must have disturbed his slumber - he slowly started to stir. For a moment she considered pulling away, but he was still holding on to her. Then he blinked, lazily at first, and he started to smile as she came into focus.
"Hey."
His voice was a little bit raspy and truly, she could have swooned. Yes, she was getting stupid. This man was making her stupid. Period.
She would have liked to kiss him but had the feeling it wouldn't be the smartest choice given morning breath and all that.
"Hey," she answered quietly, "did I squish you last night? I guess I used you as my personal pillow."
He shook his head determinately.
"Not at all. And after all, I used you as my personal teddy bear. I slept pretty well actually."
"I've got very expensive sheets."
"True. And you tired me out."
He had the gall to wink, and for a moment she gave into the urge to bury her face against his chest. She could feel him chuckle under her cheek, lowly, almost to himself, and one of his hands moved to play with her hair. Éowyn relaxed against him - this was feeling so good, and she was just too comfortable to move right now. They stayed like this for a while, Faramir kept caressing her scalp and over her shoulders, while she started to push wayward strands of hair out of his face.
"Tell me if I poke into your eye," she mumbled, her own eyes closed.
He huffed, she could feel the air against her palm.
"You'll find out."
With some satisfaction the woman noticed that she had apparently found his cheek without blinding him and he leaned into her hand, while he kept stroking over her shoulders. Éowyn sighed as he reached a painful area. Even though she was a very active and sporty person, it never really seemed to be enough to work out the knots. Stress, most likely.
"Good?"
"Mhhm. Harder, please!"
He turned his head to kiss her palm.
"That's what you said last night, too, if I remember correctly," he commented with mirth in his voice.
"You're horrible!"
He laughed, but then he became more serious.
"You know ... I really enjoyed this."
Despite herself, she had to smile.
"And I -"
Whatever he had wanted to say, it was interrupted by the ringing of her doorbell. Éowyn flinched and rolled off him in surprise.
"Who is that?"
"No clue," she answered.
"Amazon delivery?"
She frowned.
"Do you think I am THAT plebeian? Also, it's Christmas."
Faramir's eyes suddenly widened.
"Fuck. The Brunch."
Éowyn looked at him in confusion, but before she could ask, someone pounded on her door.
"ÉOWYN!" it was certainly Arwen, "and FARAMIR! I know you are here. Open the door or I swear -"
"What the hell!"
The woman jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe from the hook on the bedroom door. Something really bad must have happen to make Arwen so upset. She had the feeling Faramir was getting out of bed, too, but at that point was already rushing towards the entrance of the apartment, quickly talking herself into a panic. When she opened the door, she startled a little.
Arwen was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and while she looked gorgeous, of course, she also very much looked like she just got out of bed. Actually, now that Éowyn considered it for a moment, she appeared just as thoroughly screwed as she probably looked right now.
"Can you please explain why your one-night stand leads to an interruption of MY CHRISTMAS MORNING!" she snapped, "apparently Faramir has turned off his phone or something, and therefore people - well, Boromir - thought it was a good idea to blow up Aragorn's phone in the hope that he tells me to tell you to tell him TO READ HIS TEXTS!"
Éowyn shrugged her shoulders a bit helplessly.
"I have no idea what this is about. But my guess would be a Christmas Brunch."
"And that didn't come up last night?"
"Uhm, nope."
Arwen huffed, then snapped a sentence in Scottish Gaelic at her that made her blush - but also nod.
"Small mercies," the dark-haired woman sighed.
Then she looked past Éowyn into the hallway. When the woman turned around, she could have swooned again - despite Arwen's current mood and her still existing cluelessness. Faramir had emerged from the bedroom, shirtless, since said item of clothing likely resided somewhere in her kitchen. The jeans were hanging low on his hips, and he still looked ravaged - an appearance that clashed very much with the blush that spread over his face when he looked at Arwen.
"I'm so so sorry," he told her, clearly distressed, "I totally forgot the Family Brunch - but I would have never thought Boromir would go to this length to get a hold of me."
"And you should be sorry!" Arwen sounded uncharacteristically haughty, and Éowyn wondered what exactly they had interrupted. Must have been good, "anyway, I've got the feeling you've got some stuff to sort out! And so have I!"
With a last dirty look, she turned around and glided down the stairs. Éowyn could only shake her head, before she closed the door and turned around to face Faramir.
"I guess you should check your phone."
"That I should."
They hurried into the kitchen where he took it out of the pocket of his leather jacket, but as he unlocked it, he suddenly blanched.
"Hey, what is it?"
No answer. He seemed to read messages, then again, and again. Then he looked up, straight at her, totally aghast.
"They didn't just blow up my phone because it's already close to 9 o'clock and I am not where I am expected to be. Someone saw us - you and me - together. And they apparently told my father about it when they sent Christmas greetings. And then my father sort-of exploded. And then Boromir lied. And he might have told him that you were my girlfriend."
Éowyn was silent for a moment. After all, what was there to say? What do you do when you wake up and you find out your one-night stand's daddy issues apparently have a capital D in front? Though - she HAD known that before. And she still slept with him. Duh. However, instead of anything helpful, the only thing that came out of her mouth was "what the actual fuck?!"
Faramir rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Welcome to the mess that is my family."
"Can't you tell them the truth? That Boromir got it all wrong and I am not your girlfriend? I mean, you don't have to tell them that I am a one-night thing, you can just tell them I am A friend you met here."
"Unfortunately said person saw us walking to your house and then I unfortunately had the mind to kiss you on your doorstep," he answered roughly.
"Oh, the person with the dog? But how could we have known!" Éowyn exclaimed, "but still, is a one-night stand so very bad? I mean, as long as it stays in the family and doesn't become splayed all over People."
Faramir started to look a little bit desperate at that point.
"Oh, for my father it very much is - even worse than my lack of girlfriend."
He started to pace through her kitchen, agitated like a caged tiger.
"Unless -"
He stopped.
"Éowyn, what if it were more than a one-night thing? Would you come to the brunch with me? As my girlfriend. Even just for today. And then my father will back off and we can break up due to long-distance trouble."
The man was biting his lip, and for some reason Éowyn had the feeling that he knew exactly what the fake-dating trope entailed - the curious case of Faramir Steward, who apparently seemed to be into romcoms. But she was getting distracted.
Éowyn shook her head, very determinedly.
"Are you mental? That is THE romcom cliché - and it always goes wrong! Firstly, we don't know each other well enough to pull the thing off, secondly, the backstory is wonky, thirdly, we are socializing in the same circles and that means gossip. And that gossip is going to bite us in the arse, believe me, Faramir!"
She didn't add her reasons number four and five.
Four - that any increased interaction with Faramir's family was a professional risk for her, controlled but still there. And Éowyn was certainly not going to risk either her career or her family's business for a very attractive but also very off-limit son of the competition.
Five - that in a fake-dating scheme, someone always caught feelings. That was just how it was, everyone knew this. Just take Pretty Woman, The Wedding Date, The Proposal, The Love Hypothesis, or - very conveniently Holidate (do you see the parallel? Éowyn certainly did) if you didn't believe her. And catching feelings for Faramir would be far too easy, after last night she was sure of that.
So no, they didn't need to add The Christmas Girlfriend to the list. And no, no chance she was going to fake-girlfriend for him.
"I would guess you know my family and our company well enough," he argued with a raised eyebrow, "I am sure I can learn enough about you in -" he checked the clock on her wall, "twenty minutes to chit-chat four hours. And then withstand the interrogation. The backstory doesn't matter so much since my father doesn't know anything about my life to begin with. But if you don't want to do this, I get it. You've got your own family to think about, and that's fair."
He flashed her a short smile.
"Can I still take you out for dinner? Like, for real?"
Éowyn's mind felt as if it was tumbling down a flight of stairs. He was asking her for a date. In all this mess. After she had refused to help him.
Damn, what was he, Prince Charming or what? Where was the catch? Oh, yeah, right, the catch was the big red flag hanging over his head.
Still, right now she wanted nothing but say yes and then go to dinner- notably without her friends this time - and talk about life and movies and music and food.
And when had she started to let her dialect shine through? And really, when for goodness's sake had they come so close, so close that their foreheads were almost touching?
Before she could decide on a course of action though, Faramir's ringing phone ripped the two out of their conversation.
He took the call with a small apologetic smile. Then his face froze. No wonder, since she could hear the almost screaming right through the phone now that they were still standing next to each other. Well, actually, the man on the other side wasn't really screaming, it was more a sort of icy menace that carried through well enough.
'Faramir - you are late! As usual. Incompetent and not the least trustworthy, and then you are surprised that I do not give you more important tasks! Your brother has been on time, just as I would have expected from you.'
The younger man sighed, clearly used to that line of argument. Éowyn told herself she should leave, give him some privacy, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she picked his shirt up from the floor and remained in his periphery. He gave her a tight smile; she took that as a sign that it was okay.
"Alright, I know I am a disappointment. Can we skip this please? I'll get ready and join you shortly."
Faramir sounded calm, collected, rather a little bit annoyed. Only the tension in his jaw betrayed his agitation.
'Boy, where are you? Your brother said something about a girl? Of course, you'll miss the Christmas Brunch for some cheap hussy you are too ashamed to tell your family about, let alone even introduce to us! I can only imagine what she is like, matching your dim intellect, your weakness.'
Éowyn's jaw dropped. How dared a father insult a son's girlfriend he knew nothing about? How dared a father talk to his child like that? And seriously how dared he insult her and call her - cheap and stupid?! Her university degree would argue with that, just like her bank account, her trust fund, her horses, and a couple of other things. Fury and indignation sparked up in her.
'Or is she even real?'
Denethor laughed cruelly.
'I bet she's not. Because the last years have shown no woman seems to want you. Which must be due to your character, since you have connections, and money, and I suppose you look reasonably good -'
No, his father had it all wrong, because how could anyone not want Faramir? Realistically, she knew that this was how attraction worked, but emotionally, she couldn't fathom it. He had been nothing but kind and considerate, and apparently this man knew nothing about it. She could see Faramir's knuckles were getting white around the phone from gripping it so hard, and he looked as if he wanted to argue back - but of course he couldn't, because officially, she wasn't his girlfriend. Officially, she didn't exist, and it had been her own choice. Which seemed more and more unfortunate, but still he was respecting it, even though it brought him abuse. At that moment, Éowyn loved him for it.
Retrospectively, she wasn't acting fully rationally, it was a snap of the moment decision. Though, if one looked at it more clearly, it would become clear that her decision might not be so out of character as one would think: After all, at the root of it, under all the layers of loyalty and ambition that might taint it, Éowyn had become a lawyer out of idealism. Not to be part of the company. Not even to please her family. No, she had become a lawyer because she believed that good people deserved good things, that they deserved support, that there should be justice. And right now, Faramir could certainly use someone in his corner. With that kind of family, you didn't need enemies. She had trouble with her relatives, alright, but she couldn't even start to imagine living like that, being talked to like that by someone who was supposed to love and support you.
Éowyn dropped his shirt on the island, turned around and almost sprinted towards the kitchen bench where she always kept a couple of pens and old flyers. White paper would certainly have been better, but grocery store advertisement had to do now. She quickly scribbled something on the margin, begging Heaven that Faramir would be able to read it. Then she sprinted back, stopping close to him, and held the flyer right in front of his face. The man seemed absolutely confused - she couldn't blame him. She tapped onto her writing with her index finger. His eyes narrowed as he tried to read it and Éowyn decided then and there that her ugly handwriting truly seemed to have disadvantages. Denethor was droning on in the background, but neither of the two cared.
Say you bring your girlfriend.
His eyes widened and he looked at her with a question written all over his face. She nodded.
"I hate to interrupt you, but I'll bring my girlfriend," Faramir declared, "and I expect you to be at least polite, or we will leave. And I don't care what Uncle Imrahil or any other aunt thinks. Have I made myself clear?"
His voice was firm, for the first time he sounded as if he wouldn't take no for an answer. It didn't go unnoticed by his father, who just huffed. In the meantime, Éowyn had moved back a couple of steps until there was a reasonable distance between the two of them. Faramir watched her with barely concealed confusion. She gave him a smile which she hoped looked reassuring.
"Honey, I told you, you don't have time to talk to your dad for hours! You'll see him later, alright. We really really need to go over some organisational aspects!"
Éowyn was afraid he would drop the phone in surprise as she called out to him, but fortunately, he held it tight. She had switched into her best upper-class expression again and hoped it would do the trick.
'Was that her?'
Denethor asked.
"Yes, and as you did hear, we need to go over some organisational aspects," he parroted Éowyn. "So, I will see you later."
He hung up before his father could start another tirade, it made her smirk. When he put down his phone on her kitchen island, his face was full of bewilderment.
"What did just happen?"
Éowyn shrugged, before she sauntered towards him.
"It appears as if you just got yourself a girlfriend for Christmas."
Fake-girlfriend, her brain corrected, but as he didn't correct her, neither did she. Instead, he cupped her cheek, making her look at him.
"Why do you do this?"
"Because I think your father is wrong. There is nothing undesirable about you."
She blushed at her own forwardness but went on.
"He should know that, big time. Also, he dragged me through the mud as well - and I can't have that, can I now?"
Éowyn covered his hand with hers.
"I don't pity you, you know," she felt the need to tell him, "but I am still sorry. You don't deserve any of this."
These were the same words he had said to her the night before, only that there had been distance between the two of them back then. Now there wasn't, instead, he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame until there was no space between their bodies anymore. His forehead rested against her shoulder while she automatically started to stroke down his still bare back and through his hair. She was certain the same adrenaline she had felt last night after her fight with Éomer was rushing through him now - she hadn't understood it then but now she saw how he had tried to catch her last night, likely because he knew the feeling far too well. Éowyn wondered how often that shit happened to him.
When he pulled back, he seemed a lot more composed, even a bit hopeful.
"You really went all Love, Actually with that flyer," he commented.
She rolled her eyes.
"Seemed smart at that moment. I don't like the movie though. Alright, we need a plan. And a backstory."
Éowyn could see the moment Faramir snapped into action.
"Well, you're lucky project management is sort of my thing," he told her with a grin, "but I need a coffee first. And please Éowyn, can you please, pretty please, put on some clothes? I can't concentrate if you keep running around in your robe like that."