Work Text:
Fili groaned as he checked the timer for about the tenth time in the last five minutes. Somehow it felt like the clock kept ticking while the timer moved in slow motion. Kili would be here before the damned chicken was done marinating. And he still had to cook it.
He ran his hand through his hair and surrendered. Sighing, he turned down his music, minimized the recipe on this iPad, and opened up FaceTime.
“Fili,” his mother smiled into the camera, eyes sparkling. “To what do I owe this honor?”
FIli shook his head. “Come on, Ma. It hasn’t been that long.”
“I know, I know, I’m teasing. What’s up, sweetheart?”
Fili angled the camera toward a deep cast iron pan that held finely chopped onions waiting to be fried with ginger and garlic pastes. “I have an hour and a half 'til he gets here, and 45 minutes left for the chicken to marinate. I still have to fry the chicken and reduce the gravy.”
“You mean you’re not cooking it in a tandoor?” his mom asked, eyes wide in mock surprise. “Fili Durin, where did I go wrong?”
Fili snorted and smiled at her careworn face. “You forced me to practice football all day rather than give me the cooking lessons I begged for.”
She shook her head and looked upward. “I failed you.”
“You have been blessed with the opportunity to make up for it,” he smirked, pointing toward the refrigerator. “Is there some magic for speeding up the marinating?”
She laughed. “You couldn’t just grill some chicken and vegetables, could you?”
“He thinks I can’t cook,” Fili answered, even though he knew it was a rhetorical question. He had never done things the easy way.
“You can’t!”
“Ma! Give me a little bit of credit. I make the best microwave nachos in the history of microwave nachos.”
He loved his mother’s laugh. He was calming down already. He was loved, and in love, and he was going to impress Kili so he wouldn’t make fun of Fili’s sparse kitchen ever again. Well. The latter was probably asking too much, given that it held beer, ramen, and ketchup last time Kili arrived too early for their date and tried to find a snack. It served Kili right for showing up so early with no warning, though.
“What are you smiling about?” his mom asked from the tablet.
Fili shook his head again. “Sorry. Thinking about Kili. So, marinade?”
“How long has it been in there?” she asked.
“An hour and 15 minutes.”
“Give it 15 more minutes,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”
“Sure? I want this to be good.”
“It’ll be fine,” she repeated. “You have good chicken stock? Fenugreek leaves?”
“I can read a recipe,” Fili grumbled.
“Thank goodness,” she responded in kind. She reached toward the camera, eyes warm. “It’ll be good. Enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he smiled as he hung up.
Fili’s hair was damp from showering, he looked as good as he was going to, and the chicken had simmered an appropriate amount of time. With an embarrassing level of trepidation he tasted the dish.
“Mm,” he mumbled in surprise.
Pleased with the result, he anticipated Kili’s first taste, his appropriate appreciation… and the door shook. Somehow Kili always managed to get past the front desk without staff alerting Fili.
He turned off the stove, rubbed his hands together, and strode to the door with butterflies in his stomach - a fluttering like he felt before big games, nerves, anticipation, excitement. Kili was here - the best and most important thing he could ever win, and now the most impatient. He'd exhausted his supply of patience years ago. The door resounded with Kili’s third pounding knock as Fili reached for the handle.
“'Bout time, man,” Kili said, striding past Fili and handing him his jacket and a bottle of wine. “Smells good.”
Fili nodded and tried to stop himself from grinning like a moonstruck idiot. He set the bottle on his recently cleared, neglected dining room table, hung up the coat, and turned around into Kili’s open arms.
He melted into Kili’s warmth and returned the squeeze. Kili kissed his temple, and Fili kissed Kili’s stubbled cheek. Fili grabbed Kili’s hand as they separated and pulled Kili into the kitchen.
“Check it out, man,” Fili said, a hint of pride making it into his voice, as he lifted and set aside the lid from the simmering chicken. “I told you I can cook.”
Kili’s dark eyes widened. He was too quiet, and he looked shy, which was really - really - weird. “Uh.”
“What’s wrong?” Fili asked, stomach dropping.
“I really appreciate the effort you put into cooking,” Kili said with a grimace. “This. For me. But I’m a vegetarian.”
Fili’s forehead lifted, his eyes widened. “A. Vegetarian,” he said, voice flat. He looked down at his painstakingly prepared butter chicken. It actually looked as good as it tasted.
Fili realized his jaw had dropped, and he pressed his mouth closed. His first thought was this can’t be happening, but it was immediately followed by the recognition that this was so far from the worst thing that had happened to them that it barely registered. That was at once a comforting and sobering thought.
“I should’ve told you, it never came up, I didn’t think about it, it’s been awhile,” Kili babbled. “Fili. I’m-“
Fili raised a finger in a “one moment” gesture. Kili’s eyebrows narrowed as Fili pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and sent a short text.
“Who could possibly be more important than me right now?” Kili demanded, his eyes working into an impressive glower.
Fili just held up his finger again. His phone rang, and he handed it to Kili.
Kili glared down, and then his eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Hello,” he said, voice unusually weak.
Fili felt the same odd mix of amusement and consternation in his gut that he saw on Kili’s face. He clearly heard his mother’s voice. “You’re a what?!”
Kili looked down. “Vegetarian.”
“For how long?” The voice demanded.
“A few years.”
Fili knew that his mother had, predictably, switched sides, when he could no longer hear her. She had always had a - perfectly understandable - soft spot for Kili. All Fili could do was watch the one-sided conversation.
“It’s fine, I can eat the rice and bread.” Pause. “No, really. There’s no need for that.”
Kili lips quirked, and he glanced at Fili. “You don’t say.”
Fili raised his eyebrows, and Kili held up his finger with a smirk. “Well, it smells good. I’m sure it’s delicious, I just can’t let you know for sure.”
After another pause, Kili said, “It’s not necessary-” and then raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture.
“Okay, okay. Yes, I will do that. Yes. Okay.”
Fili shook his head, disappointment and chagrin threatening to succumb to laughter.
“Yes, I promise!” Kili caught and held Fili’s eyes during the next long pause. “I know. Thank you. I missed you, too.”
Fili’s heart pounded as their eyes remained locked, full of promise to make up for lost time. Kili handed back the phone. After a long moment, Kili took a deep breath and broke the silence. “Well. Thank you for cooking for me.”
“That was really fucking hard to make,” Fili grumbled.
Kili shrugged, palms up. “It does look good.”
“It is good, damn it,” Fili said, covering the pan, “but I should’ve asked you about it. I just wanted to surprise you.”
Kili grinned. “You succeeded there.”
“Oh good,” Fili grimaced. “What did Mom make you promise?”
“She said you’re to order me dal and something with vegetables from the take-out place up the street,” Kili said, looking down.
“Why do you sound so nervous about it?” Fili asked, a smile hovering around the edges of his lips. “You order me around all the time.”
Kili kept his eyes down, rubbing his arm. Then he snorted. And laughed. Such a rich laugh. Fili couldn’t help it - it was a ridiculous situation. He laughed, and then he admitted he liked to be ordered around by Kili. If the glint in Kili’s eyes was anything to go by, Fili would regret that admission, but he’d worry about that later. He had food to order.
Kili ate out of the take out containers, leaning back with his long legs propped up on another rarely used dining room chair, so that Fili almost felt like they were back in college just hanging out. Now they had no looming “secret” between them, but they still skirted the jagged edges of the harm it had done. The edges were getting polished, though, or at least bandaged, slowly.
They spoke of cooking and food, acting and audiences, family and common friends, Kili boisterous and talkative, Fili quieter and attentive - an obvious reminder of the many ways they complemented each other. It was substantive conversation, but it wasn’t about damage.
They were cleaning up in the kitchen when Fili reached for a dish towel and pressed his eyes closed. His migraine tell had pressed its gnarly finger to the top of his right eye. Perfect timing. He kept moving and hoped Kili hadn’t noticed his stutter.
Of course Kili had noticed.
“What’s wrong?” Kili asked as he took the towel and began drying a plate.
Fili took a breath, and Kili interrupted him before he even knew what he was going to say. “Dude, don’t you dare say ‘nothing’.”
Despite the foreboding pain, Fili chuckled, a pleasant warmth radiating from his chest. He felt like it might overflow with love. Then he rested the pan he had just washed in the dishrack, dried his hands and laughed. Kili just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Fili retrieved his super-strength ibuprofen from a cabinet and looked at Kili. “I wasn’t going to say ‘nothing’, but I was going to downplay it,” he admitted.
Fili took a deep breath, and made himself keep going. His ability to hide pain didn’t win him any points with Kili. Fili tried to gauge Kili’s reaction. He might’ve looked pleasantly surprised, or maybe just impatient. Possibly both. He was so beautiful.
“I’ve had two bad concussions,” Fili said, “and probably some mild ones.” He swallowed the pills past the lump in his throat. He mentally crossed his fingers that this wasn’t the beginning of scaring Kili away. “I get headaches, sometimes migraines. So far that’s it.”
“That’s it,” Kili said, voice dry, his eyes concerned. He reached for Fili’s hand. “Does the medicine help?”
“If I catch it early,” Fili nodded, feeling his stomach settle down. He wasn’t going to drive Kili away. Probably. He looked down. “Sometimes I worry that you don’t deserve something so damaged.”
Fili’s head snapped up at Kili’s loud snort. “You better let me make that decision, dickhead,” Kili said with narrowed eyes.
Fili raised his hands in mock surrender, unable to stop a grin. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m serious, Fili,” Kili said.
“I know, Kee,” Fili murmured. He still wanted to protect Kili from… Fili. He shrugged, trying to figure out what to say next. Kili had mercy on him.
“Come on,” Kili said. “You can put the dishes away tomorrow.”
Fili raised his brow but let himself be led to the living room.
Fili took a deep breath and tried to relax back into Kili. He closed his eyes, and felt the heat and strength of Kili’s chest against his back. He tried to hold onto the amazing feel of that. If he moved to the side ever so slightly, he could imagine the scratch of chest hair, if he pressed back, he could feel Kili’s muscles flex to support him. He breathed it in, held it. Kili. Kili’s hands on his chest.
And there was the problem. The main problem. This was supposed to be relaxing, but he was forced to exercise all his infamous self-control to suppress a raging hard-on - and more. He wanted to turn, straddle Kili… But no, not yet. He took a deep breath. Another.
Fili opened his eyes, looked down, swallowed a groan. Kili’s long fingers - hands so familiar yet only recently held - stroking his chest. No, eyes had to stay closed.
Kili had coaxed him onto the chaise side of the sofa and massaged his shoulders, then moved to his chest. “Relax, Fili,” he demanded, again.
Fili grinned, dropping his head back against Kili’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, I’m trying.”
“I mean it. Stop fidgeting like a child.”
Fili lifted his head back up and twisted his neck, raising his eyebrow. “A child?”
“Yes. A child. Sit still.”
Fili huffed an exaggerated sigh, but tried harder to comply. He leaned back, eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. He felt Kili’s inhale, and then Kili’s hands moved off Fili’s lap and up his torso, gentle massage on the plains of his abdomen, deeper on the curves of his pectorals.
Fili actually started to relax, his breath slowing without him having to force it, tension leaving his muscles, back softening...
“You’re stunning, Fee,” Kili breathed, as his hands slid inward from the outside of Fili’s chest.
Fili lifted a languid hand and smacked Kili’s leg. “Stop distracting me.”
He was distracted, though, and Kili’s answering laugh was way, way too much for him to be expected to handle. “Shut up, or I'm turning around.”
“Wow, Durin. That’s terrifying.” He ran his hands slowly down Fili's stomach. Definitely not relaxing.
Fili closed his eyes. The hands went back up, nails tracing through hair. It had taken an embarrassingly short amount of time for his dick to press uncomfortably against his jeans. “I want you so bad,” Fili murmured.
“Yeah?” Kili said, voice neutral, hands hovering on Fili’s chest, then pressing in.
“Yeah,” Fili gasped as nails brushed his nipples. He sought calm, but Kili was clearly encouraging this. Fucking hell. They'd made it, and- and Fili did calm down for a moment. Looking down, he took Kili’s hands, pressed them to his mouth. “Kee.”
Slowly he lowered their hands into his lap, contrasting tan and pale olive, and let go. Kili sighed. Fili turned around and nudged Kili's leg in with a knee and straddled his thighs.
So Kili hadn't been as calm as he seemed either - his cheeks were pink, dark eyes dilated. Fili brought his hands to Kili’s face, ran a thumb over an eyebrow. “I love you, Kili,” he murmured.
Kili’s wide eyes belied the calm in his deep voice. “I know.”
Fili's lips quirked.
Kili grasped Fili’s shoulders and closed his eyes for a moment. “Mm,” he sighed. “I’ve always loved you.”
“I knew,” Fili whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Kili shook his head. “We’re moving past that.”
Kili’s eyes. The right eyes. Fili was captured by Kili’s eyes, and- “You have the most beautiful eyes,” Kili breathed, and Fili laughed and pulled Kili closer.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” Fili said. “Ever. In the history of the world.”
Their grins met, and they kissed like it was the first time, lips caressing and noses bumping, and grins across stubble, and it was amazing and perfect and unhurried.
They ended up on Fili’s bed, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to the bedroom. Kili settled on Fili’s hips, and deja vu stopped Fili’s skittering heart just long enough for him to catch his breath.
“We’ve been here before,” Fili whispered up to Kili, not wanting to spoil the moment but unable to help himself.
A flash of pain crossed Kili’s face but was gone in an instant. Kili shook his curls and grinned down at Fili, eyes sparkling. Definitely not like before, when Kili had been sleep-deprived, justifiably angry, and wouldn’t let Fili touch him. They would heal. Fili allowed himself to return the smile, then his eyes widened as Kili’s turned wicked.
“Can you keep your hands off me again?” Kili asked.
Fili clenched his fists at his side and trailed his eyes down Kili’s bare chest. “Nope,” Fili said and was rewarded with a deep chuckle from Kili.
The sound rumbled straight to Fili’s groin, and he brought his hands up to Kili’s shoulders, ran them down his ribs, up his stomach, and caressed Kili’s chest, the black hair coarse on his fingers.
An enticing moan from above brought Fili’s eyes back to Kili’s face. His eyes were closed, hands resting lightly on Fili’s waist. “You’re breathtaking, Kili,” Fili murmured.
Kili’s eyes opened, and Fili gasped as Kili leaned down, pressing his warm chest against Fili’s. They kissed deeply, lips caressing and tongues exploring. Fili’s hands massaged the shifting muscles of Kili’s back, reveled in the comforting weight pressing down on him.
They stayed that way for a blissfully long time, skin sliding together, until Kili’s hand snaked between them and pressed their erections together. Kili sat back up, stroking them both, and Fili watched, mesmerized, as long as he could. Then he dropped his head back, hands on Kili’s hips, and sighed as orgasm radiated through his body.
The sun filtered through the blinds and Fili’s eyelids, and for once he was happy to wake up early in the morning. His body felt as pleasantly languid as it had last night. He smiled at the thought of the two of them passing out together as if they’d just run a marathon.
Fili stretched and gently rolled toward the warmth next to him, marveling that Kili was in his bed. Kili was on his side facing Fili, his dark curls a jumble on the pillow, face relaxed.
“Quit staring at me, you creep,” Kili grumbled.
Fili started, then rolled his eyes. “Quit pretending to sleep, you weirdo.”
Kili’s eyes popped open. “I was bored, but I didn’t want to rob you of the opportunity to stare at me while I sleep.
“Creep,” Kili finished. His eyes softened, though, and he whispered, “I like lying in bed with you.”
Fili laughed and rolled onto his back, reaching for Kili’s hand. “I was offered a coaching job,” he said. “Two actually.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Kili asked, heat in his voice.
“Distracted and then very distracted,” Fili said, closing his eyes with the smile still plastered across his face.
He felt Kili roll onto his back. Fili turned his head and cracked an eye open. Kili squeezed his hand. “Tell me,” Kili said.
Fili described the opportunities - assistant coach at a big school, head coach at a small one - their locations - both close enough they could see each other regularly - and, with some effort, he admitted concern over his qualifications for either.
“You just don’t want to have to wake up early,” Kili said, jabbing Fili’s hip with his knuckles. “You’re spoiled.”
Fili shrugged. “Yep.”
After another jab, Kili pulled Fili’s hand up and kissed the palm and then let go. “Congratulations, Fee, you deserve it,” Kili said as he stood up.
Fili suppressed a surge of need at the sight of Kili, naked and stretching his long limbs, with a deep breath. Later, he had to remind himself. There will always be a later now.
Kili showered and dressed for work, and Fili had an unsettling feeling that he would be watching Kili walk out of his life again. Part of him said he didn’t deserve Kili, and another part said he needed to get over it, and another part-
Finally realized Kili was watching him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up, man?”
With a rueful grin, Fili made himself speak up once again. He didn’t want to be comforted, but then he knew Kili wouldn’t coddle him, and he had to quit keeping things locked up. “I just felt like I couldn’t watch you walk away from me.”
“Well, you know there’s an easy way to fix that,” Kili said - without sympathy.
Fili raised an eyebrow.
“Walk me to work.”
Fili groaned and threw a pillow at Kili. Then he got up with another grin that he felt in his whole body and walked his best friend, his boyfriend, to work.