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Moonlight shone directly down the light shaft to sparkle on the gem-strewn floor, the multitude of tankards, spilled ale. Fíli’s hair. The dwarves crowded in tonight’s most popular tavern bowed their heads in about five seconds of silence, sent a booming toast into the night, and went back to what they did best after a hard day of work. A hundred hands brought ceramic to lips, and a brawl picked up right where it had left off.
“We’ve witnessed the full extent of dwarven romance,” Kíli yelled to be heard above the cacophony.
He grinned as he took full advantage of the crowd to press his shoulder harder into Fíli’s and turned his head toward him. Kíli’s brother flashed a brilliant smile before raising his own mug and taking a long pull of the best ale this side of the Misty Mountains. Kíli snorted, almost losing the gulp he’d taken.
No less than five Ered Luin taverns claimed such, and Thorin grumbled out at least that many superior Erebor-Dale brewers every time his family managed to coax him into a rare night out. Fíli raised an eyebrow.
“Good stuff,” Kíli yelled.
“All right, let’s get out of here,” Fíli said with a tilt of his head.
Kíli considered the loss of Fíli’s bulk preventing any embarrassing swaying versus the mountain full of trouble awaiting their whim. He nodded and tilted up his tankard. Head back he chugged his ale like he’d taken a bet, rivulets of cold liquid escaping down his chin.
He slammed his mug down on a glistening table to watch Fíli finish the last drop of his beer without getting a drop on his fancy braids. Kíli rolled his eyes and straightened. “Come on Prince Fastidious.”
They stumbled through the crowd and out into the cold mountain corridor. “Let’s go make some fireworks of our own,” Kíli said.
Fíli’s blue eyes flashed… something… before lighting up with their normal intensity when Kíli suggested something monumentally stupid. “Stupid” according to Prince in Exile Fíli, that is; otherwise known as “fun”, thank you very much, to Kíli and his brother in prince’s clothing. “What did you have in mind?” Fíli asked with a grin.
Kíli looked around with exaggerated care and pulled a handful of toy spiders out of a pocket. He had no idea why humans had thought to craft these things, but maybe they enjoyed a good prank as much as young dwarves. “I know a tavern with entirely too much ventilation.”
~~~~~
Fíli was laughing so hard he could barely run. “You’re trouble, baby boy.”
Kíli punched his brother in the arm as he kept pace. “The trouble finds me.”
~~~~~
Spiders. Webs. Fíli didn’t dream of waves of attacking orcs, wargs, or mountains that fought each other. His nightmares weren’t filled with goblin tunnels, Mirkwood’s mazes, or even being executed in front of his family. Any of those would make more sense than what he had.
Fíli rubbed his eyes with his fists like a child, trying to wake up, extract himself from tunnels of silk. It would even make sense if he fought the spawn of Ungoliant, or fought for breath in a sticky, filthy cocoon. But the spiders of his recurring dreams were just spiders. The webs were large, yes, but made to catch insects, not people.
His mind drifted between sleep and awareness, his body weightless. He grasped for consciousness. The dreams weren’t even scary. He just wandered around silent, vaguely lit stone tunnels that were covered with spider webs. When he could recall anything concrete, it was often a sense of wonder at the intricacy of the designs and the strength of the tiny, shimmering threads. He’d see a spider or two in a web and ignore it or see if he could discern its type (he never could).
Sunlight hit his eyes. Whoever had placed this massive bed under a light shaft was the worst kind of fool. He would find a way to move the thing. As soon as he had a free moment.
At least that woke him up. He stretched, mind still foggy. Consciousness hit then, like a lead weight in his stomach. Most often the dreams left a feeling, an unsettling emotion that wouldn’t let go even though he couldn’t tie it to anything, of a love so big it would tear him apart if it didn’t smother him first. It filled his body, clawing at him, even as it surrounded him, clung to him, like the webs, and it was terrible. It was relentless, and it made no sense.
Kíli stirred next to him. Fíli stretched again and then turned to face his brother. Kíli’s face still held a tinge of grey. Fíli grinned nevertheless - the pallor was barely there now, and the pinch of pain was gone from Kíli’s dark brow. Oín said he wasn’t out of danger yet, but last week Kíli had decreed everyone else in the infirmary was in mortal peril if he had to stay there one more day. Fíli wish he would’ve seen it, but he had no trouble imagining it. The full weight of Thorin’s scowl wasn’t easy to bear, and Kíli had mimicked and then mastered it early in his life.
Kíli also learned early on that people were never sure whether Kíli’s glare had Thorin’s backing him or not. In this case, he had. Thorin had channeled all of his post-battle familial guilt into treating Kíli like a spoiled princeling since the day the King Under the Mountain was able to sit up.
Fíli’s eyes narrowed as Kíli groaned. It didn’t look like pain, though, just waking. Fíli maneuvered himself out of the bed, his muscles still protesting in ways they never had before the battle. He had been proclaimed healed, and indeed he was well enough to hide every lingering discomfort. But even dwarven bodies took much time to heal such trauma that he had his brother and uncle had suffered.
Fíli shuffled over to the nightstand that held Kíli’s remaining medicines. Two dwarven mixtures and one elven. He picked up the latter and held it up to the light. It shimmered, like the webs, like their life before the journey to Erebor. Fíli remembered being carefree, but he couldn’t recall what it felt like.
As he mixed the last with spring water, Fíli sent his daily request to Mahal that finishing these few bottles would see his brother fully returned to him.
~~~~~
“Give it to me,” Kíli growled.
“That very reaction is what tells me I should not,” Fíli said. Calmly. I am calm, he screamed at his racing heartbeat and his clenched fists. He loosened one of them so he wouldn’t smash the cursed bottle. Not with his hand anyway. He’d rather save the shards of glass for the wall.
“You have no right.”
Fíli sputtered. Calm. He took a long breath. “Right? I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t want your ‘help’”, Kíli sneered. “Give me my medicine and get out.”
“It’s not time for another dose.”
“It isn’t your business.”
“Kee,” Fíli winced as Kíli narrowed his eyes further. Fíli spread his arms in front of him. “Kíli. I’m just worried about you. You should be taking this less often, not more.”
Kíli tightened his crossed arms over his chest. “I’m not taking it ‘more’. I just had a bad day.”
Fíli looked at Kíli’s pale face, the sheen on his forehead. Pain, or something else? What if it was just pain and he denied the relief? Fíli sighed. “Therapy?”
Kíli blew out a noisy breath, but his shoulders softened. “It was good. We just pushed a little too hard. I’m fine, Fíli.”
He wasn’t fine. They weren't fine. Or maybe it was just a bad day. Another one.
Fíli handed the bottle over silently and turned away before he could see the relief in Kíli’s eyes - evidence that his brother was lying to him. That would mean he’d lied to Fíli more this week than in their entire lives together. It was just a bad day.
~~~~~
“You have a problem!” Fíli yelled.
Kíli was sprawled on the burgundy couch in the common room with firelight flickering off his hair. “I don’t,” Kíli shrugged, weirdly calm.
“You. Do.” Fíli gritted his teeth, as his heart sank. How could he make Kíli see it?
Kíli shook his head. Still unusually still and quiet. It was maddening.
“I’ll stop taking them, Fee. Quit worrying.” Kíli waved a dismissive hand and let his gaze fall on the fire.
Fíli leaned over, grabbed Kíli’s shoulder and pulled him up. Kíli’s eyes sparked as he brushed off Fíli’s hand. “At least try to understand,” Kíli hissed like the burning logs. “Nothing else stops the pain. I just need a break from it.”
Fíli sagged and stood back. “I have tried.” Fíli had to make Kíli see, but he couldn’t find the words he had so carefully rehearsed. He was lost. A web of confusion, frustration, and lies separated him from his brother. And he couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something else he hadn’t quite grasped.
“I,” Fíli paused and ran his hand through his hair and gave up. “You’re not yourself.”
The spark died into indifference as Kíli scratched furiously at his arm. Not himself. “Quit worrying.”
~~~~~
Fíli tiptoed into a chill room and the smell of pipe smoke, thick in the air of the common room - painfully aware that dwarves didn’t “tiptoe”, afraid Kíli would hear him anyway - and since when was he afraid of Kíli - and. A sigh sounded in front of him. A melodramatic, elf-worthy, long-suffering sigh.
Shit. Fíli dropped his heels with a thud. It has been a stupid thing to try anyway. “Kíli.”
A huff in the dark. “Fíli,” Kíli intoned, then giggled.
Giggling was bad. The scrape of a match lit a halo around Kíli’s dark head and sparkled on his lengthening beard. The rest of the room stayed as shadowed as Kíli’s drug-addled mind. “Hiya, Fee. Where ya been? Ouch!”
Kíli dropped the match on the stone floor and disappeared back into the gloom. Mentally back on tiptoes, Fíli was determined he’d talk his way out of this room and away from the person he loved more than anything in the world. His chest ached.
“Delegation from Dale just left,” Fíli said. He did not say that Kíli should’ve known that and could’ve been there. “I’m tired.”
“We need to talk.”
They had talked. It never went well.
“I can’t forget. No matter how much I drink it’s all still there.” Kíli’s low voice clutched at Fíli’s breaking heart, and Fíli almost found himself trapped. Fíli had just almost died; Kíli had watched Fíli’s death first.
Fíli took a step toward the couch. He longed to put his arm around Kíli’s shoulders, hold him close, just for one, comforting moment. It would be-
He froze on Kíli’s giggle.
“Good night, bro,” Fíli said, trying to keep his tone light as he took a step back.
“Bro,” Kíli snorted. “Stay, have a drink.”
“No, thank you. I have to get up early.” Like he was talking to a stranger. In a way he was.
“Your loss.” Fíli was sure he imagined the sorrow in Kíli’s voice. They were both lost.
Fíli lay in bed for a long time, staring at nothing. He remembered when he thought the pain medicine was a problem. That had been nothing. One thing. One thing that paled in comparison to this. Two, smoking not for occasionally for pleasure but regularly to clear his head. And three, alcohol to drown his demons.
~~~~~
So this is why Fíli “had to” get up early. To beat a punchbag to death. Kíli stood as tall and straight as he could, determined that neither the pain in his back nor his head would be apparent. He couldn’t stop a stomp of his foot. He hated himself in the morning, in the light, when he could walk off most of the remaining stiffness, when he felt too sick to take another dose no matter how bad the pain got, when he wondered what he thought all the drugs were accomplishing.
Everyone said Kíli wasn’t weak, that he was among the strongest of dwarves to have survived his wounds. But still he had to watch Thorin and Fíli - who also almost died - go about their lives as if nothing had happened. So everyone said Kíli had come the closest to death. That he needed the pain medicine in order to fully heal.
Kíli clenched his fists. They didn’t see how his mind crumbled as his body healed. They didn’t watch him stifle his regret and lingering fears with ale. Well, Fíli saw it, which Kíli hated. Yet, Kíli felt powerless to stop it. He no longer bothered with a vow every morning to stop, not even to cut back. His mind betrayed him every single day, and every night he ended up craving more.
A particularly brutal yell shook Kíli out of his head. Fíli had smashed the defenseless bag to pieces and moved onto another one.
Fíli’s outburst saved Kíli from being startled by the voice behind him. “It’s time,” Dwalin rumbled.
Kíli glanced to his side as Dwalin moved into the brightly lit training hall. “For?”
Dwalin’s eyes, never particularly friendly, went positively frightening. “His test,” Dwalin said slowly, as if to an imbecile.
Kíli shrugged. No one would hurt an invalid. “For?”
“Health,” Dwalin said before stalking away with a glare over his shoulder.
Several more dwarves entered the hall. Fíli bowed to Dwalin and a stout dwarf from the Iron Hills.
Kíli watched Fíli wield his dual swords with most of the confidence he had before the journey. He doubted anyone else noticed how Fíli favored the left a bit too much or that he made up for it with more aggressiveness than he used to employ. Fingernails dug into Kíli’s palms as he struggled to control his breath. Fíli hadn’t told him he was this close to leaving, that Thorin was testing his health now so that Thorin would be comfortable allowing Fíli to leave.
The other dwarf gave ground to Fíli’s attacks. They had brought this supposedly talented fighter in so that no familial or friendly relationship would lead to taking it easy on Fíli.
Wait. Heat rose in Kíli’s chest and his cheeks burned. How had he known that?
Because Fíli had told him. Kíli punched a hand into palm. The memory shimmered like it was behind a veil of mist, but it was there. Lost in the addiction that he would feed the moment he left this farce.
~~~~~
Fíli would make this right, he would make this right, he repeated it to himself as if that would make it truth. His boots clumped on the ground, and dwarves parted for him as he charged through long stone halls toward their rooms, holding tight to hope.
Fíli burst through the door, heart thumping. “Kee!”
He was rewarded with a flash in Kíli’s dull eyes. “Mines on fire?” Kíli said with a rare flash of teeth.
Fíli stopped bouncing on his toes. Mahal, he missed that smile. He shook his head. “I talked Thorin into it. You’re coming with me to Mirkwood.”
Kíli stood up, suspicion fighting with hope. “Are you serious?”
Fíli raised a hand. “Yes, of course. You just have to do one thing. Like I did. Prove you can shoot straight, and we leave next week.”
Kíli’s shoulders slumped and then lifted. “All right. When?”
“Day after tomorrow? Can you do that? I can get more time if you need it, though.”
Kíli waved a hand and sat back down. “Day after tomorrow.”
Fíli tried to find a lie, concern, something, but Kíli just looked… flat. Fíli wanted to ask for assurances, offer encouragement, prod Kíli to practice. Instead he backed off the egg shells and just hoped.
~~~~~
Pony. Hard ground. Chill. Head as full of cotton as his heart of pain. And anger. Fíli grimaced. Anger, yes. Better. His sleep-deprived, ale-clouded mind didn’t catch the mistake of looking back until it was too late. Until his eyes stuttered and held on dark hair whipping in the wind.
His physical pain surrendered to the emotional kick in the guts. His brother stood alone on the ramparts, shoulders slumped. He was too far to make out an expression, but it was all too easy to imagine. No one could glower like Kíli. Affection, sorrow, guilt, and despair flickered across Fíli’s mind with sickening speed.
And no. He narrowed his eyes and faced into the wind. That would stop. Anger was appropriate. This was Kíli’s fault.
Kíli had come to his test intoxicated. As bad as Fíli had ever seen him. Kíli had taken Fíli’s chance, his word, his faith and smashed it into the stone floor with his arrows.
Fíli kicked the horse harder than it needed or deserved and let that earned guilt sweep away everything else. Then he let the wind have that as he focused on the nausea in his middle and pounding of his head.
Kíli could keep his heart or throw it into Thorin’s pile of treasure. Fíli didn’t need it.
~~~~~
Several nights on ground as cold and hard as his heart felt saw him to the edge of the newly named “wood of green leaves.” “Mirkwood” still seemed appropriate to Fíli.
Yet the edge of the forest harbored none of the complications of Mirkwood’s depths. Tall, swaying trees warned of the danger lurking within. The impossibly tall elf awaiting him looked to be as heavily armed as Fíli. Simple - kill the rest of the giant spiders, save the forest. The elf stood ready to guide Fíli on a straight path to the dark forest’s rotted heart.
Fíli’s mouth stretched into a grin as he slid off his pony. He patted his forearms in turn, reminded himself no one was taking his weapons off his living body again, and recited the strange words that would lead the pony to a safe haven.
Fíli had convinced everyone that it was good for Dwarven-Elven relations to help the Wood-elves cleanse the forest of filth. He’d left Thorin thinking it had been the king’s idea.
As willing as Fíli was to eradicate evil spiders, he was there because he wanted to do something. Flex his healed muscles, rid himself of the ghosts of orcs, and prove he could protect Middle Earth from something.
Fíli watched the pony trot away until he could no longer hear hoof beats. He eyed the elf. Fíli inhaled, allowed himself a moment’s doubt about leaving Kíli, then squared his shoulders and stalked toward his escort. The elf may have been a statue for all it had moved.
~~~~~
They tapered him off his doses, but it was still a battle. His mind shattered into shards that tore at his will, and his body shook like an earthquake. No one was there to pull him back together. No one but himself. Kíli fought.
~~~~~
Fíli fought. And fought and fought. The still, heavy air of the deep forest harbored more spiders than all of his recent dreams combined. He fought alongside elves, earning and offering a grudging respect for their complementary fighting styles. He fought with swords, knives, axes of all sizes, cudgels, tree branches, rocks, and even a bow in a particularly desperate moment.
The elf whose bow Fíli had used as a spear thanked him for saving her life. She was able to contain her lecture about the efficacy of a bow as a melee weapon for about one second after the last spider died.
Fíli listened politely because he had seen Kíli lose his favorite bow. Fíli had known very well he would break the thing when he grabbed it. He chose the elf’s life over the bow. He trusted she’d approve the choice as soon as she mourned the loss of the bow.
He never thought about Kíli while fighting. Every excursion offered a single-minded focus on killing or being killed. And that was the only time his brother wasn’t on his mind.
Following his elven companions on a safe path back to their temporary settlement, Fíli let his mind wander past swaying leaves and bird calls and out toward a lonely mountain. A lone figure on the ramparts.
Where was Kíli now? Would he allow a hug when he saw him again? Fíli smiled. Kíli gave the best hugs.
“Why the smile, Dwarf?” a warrior asked.
“Why the long face, Elf?” Fíli replied with a smirk.
“I’ve spider blood on my new boots,” the elf replied with a twitch at the corner of his lips.
“I was thinking about my brother.”
Fíli’s dreams featured Kíli now. A playful figure hiding behind dew-jeweled webs and teasing Fíli about his childhood fear of spiders. Fíli would wake with a swelling happiness in his chest, on the edge of knowledge that was oddly freeing, like letting love escape the confines of his body would at once make it bigger and easier to sustain.
The feeling always morphed into a wave of loss that scoured his body. He stood and prepared for the next battle.
~~~~~
Ale, bread, and meat. Simple, nourishing, quiet. Fíli sat in his little wooden room missing the stone. He took a breath and leaned back in the chair. It was a good feeling. He was accomplishing something here, and the mountain would fold him back into its halls soon enough.
Even the lingering pain in his leg and chest was bearable now. He was learning to live with it, work around it, breathe through it, and it was decreasing bit by bit. A last familiar stab of pain settled to the back of his mind. Kíli. That one wasn’t going anywhere, but he held onto the hope they would work things out eventually.
Fíli took a drink and jabbed his fork into a chunk of meat. Something jarred the door, jolting Fíli’s spine straight. He set his fork down and reached for a knife. Elves didn’t bang. A second knock came, not as violent as the first, but still lacking elven delicacy. Fíli tilted his head as he pulled a throwing axe from under the table.
“You better come in before you break the door down,” Fíli said, stopping the next bang mid-stream. Nothing happened. “I know they look weak, but you’ll regret breaking their stuff.”
The handle moved, but the door stayed closed. What was this? Fíli tightened his grip on his knife and moved his chair back as quietly as he could. He took a long grounding breath as the door swung open.
He dropped the axe. A distant part of his mind cringed at the likely dent in the polished floor. The rest of him was frozen by the figure in the doorway. Kíli stood just as still, his dark eyes the only thing moving as they blinked at the light flooding from Fíli’s room.
Fíli tried to move, but all he managed was a shake of his head. He’d had no trouble with Mirkwood illusions since he’d arrived, and this would be an odd place to have one, not to mention a particularly cruel one at that, and he blinked as he recognized his mind’s uncharacteristic babbling. It also didn’t look like this apparition was going to move of its own volition.
Fíli stood on weak legs and stepped around the table. “Kíli?” he whispered. “Why?”
Kíli’s eyes went wide, and he broke his own spell, stumbled into the room and into Fíli. Fíli took a step back, but instinct kicked in as he set his legs and wrapped his brother in his arms. It took Kíli a moment longer to wrap his around Fíli’s back, but then they were just there. Somehow.
“You left me,” Kíli murmured with a squeeze.
“You left me first,” Fíli said with a weak smile, feeling like a child.
Kíli snorted and nodded against Fíli’s shoulder, and Fíli became aware of the strength pressed against him, home and warmth - and maybe a little discomfort. This was too good. Fíli gently pulled back and held Kíli by the shoulders. Kíli looked good - healthy. Fíli sighed in relief and couldn’t help running a thumb along the glow on Kíli’s cheekbone.
Kíli’s eyes watered, and he moved a shaking hand up to Fíli’s and pressed it against his face. Kíli raised an eyebrow in a question that Fíli didn’t quite grasp, that shimmered like the spider webs of his dreams. Something was there if he could just figure out where to look. His heartbeat was giving him a hint, and Kíli’s hand was so warm, and the gap between their faces was closing.
Kíli gasped just as a throat was delicately cleared behind him. Fíli caught Kíli’s eyes for a moment before dropping his hands and raising his eyes at the elf.
“Pardon me, Fíli,” he said. “I bring supplies for your brother.”
Fíli bowed and waited for the elf to make his delivery, bow in return, and leave. “What happened?” Fíli said, as he and Kíli moved toward the linens and other packages.
“Amad,” Kíli said with a rueful smile. “She sent a letter that all but screamed. Thorin was to let me assist the Wood-elves with clearing our world of the Mirkwood filth, and I was to let Thorin assist me with clearing my body of its filth.”
Fíli glanced at Kíli, eyebrows raised. “How did she know?”
“Thorin,” Kíli smiled. “Don’t think he expected his reward to be a virtual thrashing.”
Fíli fought jealousy with relief. “So it just took your mother saying so to get you clean?”
Kíli’s hands fell on top of a pile of clothing he had just shaken from his travel pack. He looked down and shook his head. “It was you leaving that pushed me to the edge. She just nudged me the final step.”
“I am -”
Kíli held up a hand before Fíli could apologize. “Not that you left. That I could’ve gone with you.”
Tension Fíli had forgotten he was holding left his shoulders and neck. He had his brother back. He looked at Kíli again, recognized the circles under his eyes. “You’re tired, you can have the bed.”
Kíli rolled his eyes. “They offered me another room. I said I wanted to be with you.”
“And I said you could take the bed.”
“And I am saying we can share the bed.”
Oh. Fíli saw a web, silk strands, pretty and not threatening. A home. They shared the bed, warmth, and an occasional brush of fingertips. Fíli thought he’d never need anything else, even as he realized he could have more.
~~~~~
They fought like they always had, like they’d never been separated by near death and worse. Back to back, sword and axes trading attacks and parrys, knowing when the other needed space or protection. They orbited each other like they always had, this time dealing death to the remaining evil of the forest and building Dwarven-Elven trust with every kill.
They finished off the last of a particularly vicious pack of the things, weapons dropping in relief. Fíli and Kíli shared a nod with their companions and turned shoulder to shoulder to wipe off their weapons. Fíli shook cobwebs from his hair and his mind. They must have fought longer than he thought. He could barely lift his sword. And then Kíli was right in front of him.
Fíli smiled. Tried to smile. Kíli had such pretty eyes. So wide.
“Fíli, are you okay?”
And why was he yelling? Fíli swayed. Kíli grabbed the top of his arms. Fíli moved toward Kíli’s lips to shut him up. Shouldn’t they kiss? They’d always been so close. Now they were really close.
“Fíli!” Somehow he had lost his brother amongst a collection of elf legs. What is happening? was his last thought as he lost his grip on consciousness.
~~~~~
They talked like they always had, about everything and nothing, in silence and gestures, a raised eyebrow or lifted finger, laughter and teasing. It would’ve been perfect but for two things. They were living in a forest with elves, and Fíli was confined to a bed for the second time in his adult life.
Forget the forest: he would take a world full of the elves if he could just get out of this cursed bed.
When Fíli had awoken with a gasp and a pounding headache the day before, he learned to his chagrin that Kíli had carried him all the way back to the settlement. The elves said Kíli wouldn’t let anyone help until he settled him safely in bed. Then he wouldn’t let anyone leave until a healer extracted as much venom as possible from the large spider bite on Fíli’s calf and assured him Fíli would be fine after several days of rest.
It had taken Fíli a few hours to recall almost kissing his brother, and Kíli was chattering so much then, he failed to notice the flush that warmed Fíli’s face as his eyes focused on Kíli’s lips. Fíli lost the thread of the conversation as he tried to decide if he was embarrassed that he wanted to kiss Kíli or that he fainted at the moment he thought to attempt it.
Kíli had noticed Fíli’s inattention and insisted on a nap. A lot of sleeping and vile green elven liquid later, Kíli was letting Fíli sit up in bed, propped against too-fluffy pillows that he most decidedly would not be bringing back to him to Erebor. Or trading for them. Ever. He settled back with a sigh. Maybe one.
Kíli sat on edge of the bed and flashed a smile. “I will have a pile of them on my bed as soon as I can after we get home.”
Fíli grumbled half-heartedly, and Kíli punched his arm. Well, nudged. Apparently, being bed-ridden made Fíli fragile. “I’m not made of glass you know.”
“You are weak and pathetic, and I will treat you like glass until you are out of your sick bed,” Kíli said with mock seriousness.
Fíli found it wasn’t too difficult to hold onto his disgruntled expression since he wanted to be out of the bed more than anything he had ever wanted. Except maybe there was one thing he wanted more now. His eyes caught on Kíli’s lips. His heart skipped a beat, and he tried to cover by reaching for water.
Of course, Kíli got it for him, but then he looked at Fíli with a raised eyebrow. Shit. Fíli would just get it over with rather than wonder what Kíli was or was not thinking. “Did I, uh,” Fíli cleared his throat, took a sip of cold water. Kíli sat annoyingly still. “Did I try to kiss you?”
“I don’t know,” Kíli said, a smirk hovering around the edge of his lips. “If you’re talking about all the swaying you were doing, you also tried to kiss several elf stomachs.”
Fíli thought he should feel embarrassed or nervous, but his racing pulse was something else. A reaction to the spider webs of his recurring dream parting, something he’d always known finally coming into view.
He looked down and fumbled with his fingers anyway. How did one go from brother to whatever this was? He stretched his fingers and looked back up. He’d just go for it like everything else they ever did.
“If I had tried to kiss you, would you have kissed me back?”
Kíli bit his lip. He took a deep breath. “I want to keep teasing you,” he murmured. “And I should, but…”
Fíli reached for Kíli’s hand, held it gently on his lap. “Would you kiss me back?”
Kíli blushed and ran his thumb in circles over the back of Fíli’s hand. “I.” Kíli brought his other hand to Fíli’s face, just grazing Fíli’s beard. “Yes,” Kíli whispered. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” Fíli said, holding Kíli’s gaze. “Very much.”
“I want to kiss you, too,” Kíli said.
Fíli let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and smiled in relief. “That works out well.”
Kíli grinned and leaned forward, one hand gripping Fíli’s hard, the other gentle on Fíli’s face.
They met in the middle with a touch of lips. They just shared breath there for a moment. Then a touch of their foreheads, and Fíli brought his hand to Kíli’s cheek and curled the tips of his fingers behind Kíli’s ear.
Fíli closed his eyes, felt his heart beating with Kíli’s pulse, and then pressed their lips together. With a soft moan, Kíli’s lips parted. They kissed with a gentle press and glide of warm lips, a tingling brush of stubble, and then it deepened into pull and push of lips curling around each other and tantalizing hints of tongue.
Fíli wanted more, so much more, but his poison-weakened body betrayed him. He pulled back with a sigh, slowly opened his eyes, and ran a finger over Kíli’s eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” Fíli said with a shake of his head.
“Stop,” Kíli said, putting his hand over Fíli’s and pulling it down for a kiss to Fíli’s palm. “You just survived a bite from a spider that was taller than I am.”
Fíli edged over as far as he could and lay back with his left arm over his head. Kíli settled in next to him, head on Fíli’s shoulder, and Fíli wrapped his arm around Kíli’s waist. Fíli kissed Kíli’s head, and it felt like the most natural thing to do. Like they had been made to fit together like this. Kíli settled closer into Fíli and sighed.
“When you’re healed, I am going to touch every inch of your body,” Kíli said, voice low and silky.
Fíli tilted his head back and pressed his eyes closed, body burning. “Do not. Say that again. Until you are ready to do it.”
“Is something wrong, Fee?” Kíli asked with pretend innocence.
“Let’s try this and see,” Fíli said, squeezing Kíli’s waist. “When I am healed, I am going to kiss every inch of your body.”
Kíli gasped, kneed Fíli in the leg - annoyingly gently, of course - and lifted his head so Fíli could see him roll his eyes. “All right, you win.”
Kíli pushed his hair away from Fíli and settled back down on his shoulder. “I won’t ever leave you again,” Kíli said.
Fíli shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Still, never again.”
“I know,” Fíli said, and he did. “And I will never leave you again.”
“You better not.” Fíli felt Kíli’s grin, and then the gentling of his voice as he relaxed further into him. “I know you won’t.”
Fíli tried to stay awake to absorb Kíli’s warmth and love, but he couldn’t stop the slide into sleep. For the first time since they had almost lost their lives, Fíli did not dream.