Chapter Text
Fíli had been released from Oin’s care for less than a day, and he had little idea what to do with himself. He had spent the day trailing after various Company members, getting a lay of Erebor’s remnants, but he as much as Kíli and Thorin were still not of much use to the beginnings of the rebuilding efforts. They had all been laid up for weeks; Thorin was the worst of them, with both Fíli and Kíli not far behind.
The three of them had almost died, and that was something Fíli couldn’t quite wrap his mind around just yet.
So, he followed Thorin absentmindedly, who walked with Balin and Dori to discuss what could be accomplished with Dain’s forces still present before they returned home. He listened to Dwalin speaking with Nori about keeping an eye on the less savory dwarrow who were eyeing their treasure as something they might swipe while attention was diverted elsewhere. He ate meals Bombur or Bilbo prepared on meager supplies, bolstered by what Thranduil had left behind in the wake of their departure back home. He listened to Gloin wax poetic about how happy he would be to see his wife and son again, once the caravans from Ered Luin brought them to Erebor. He watched as Bofur danced a little jig to a tavern tune that he and Kíli managed to play while Bifur carved a figurine of Thorin, after dinner.
Occasionally, his eyes would glance over to Ori, who was the quietest of them all. The auburn haired dwarf met his gaze throughout the day more than anyone else, almost as if he were assessing something. Fíli couldn’t imagine what, given the scribe in training never seemed to think much of the Crown Prince, while others outside of the company were content to all but grovel at his feet sometimes. He found he was not disquieted by the way those brown eyes repeatedly roved over him, even if the expression on Ori’s face was all but blank as he did.
It did come as a surprise to Fíli when they were all getting prepared to bed down for the night, him finding a halfway decent chamber amongst the rubble that he was assured by Balin no one would bother him in until morning, when Ori came to him. Fíli hadn’t laid down yet on his bedroll, because he felt restless. He had tried tiring himself out throughout the day, to no success. Instead, he was standing up, poking at the fire he had been allowed to set in a small iron bowl, when he heard the lighter footsteps coming closer towards him.
When Fíli turned, there was Ori, leveling another assessing gaze at him. Fíli thought he should be unsettled, but he wasn’t. Whatever had gotten into Ori, he trusted that he would know soon.
Ori, as everyone else had, joined the efforts to keep him company while he recovered from his grave wounds. He kept him apprised of the latest goings on with a disaffected air, whilst knitting or sketching away in one of his sketchbooks. They were not close, but known enough to each other that the former could guess at what sort of things Fíli might want to know.
Fíli was appreciative of that, because unlike some of the other company members, Ori pulled no punches with his monotone honesty. If occasionally Fíli noticed Ori glance up at him, then return to his yarn work with shaking hands, well that was no one’s business but Fíli’s own. He was grateful that even though they hadn’t always gotten along, Ori took time out of his day to try and make him feel better while he healed.
“Ori, is everything alright?”
“Do you mind if I join you for a bit?”
“Er, no. I was just about to go to bed, though.”
Not really, but close enough.
Ori bit his lip, worrying his teeth over his bottom lip. Fíli watched the movement, knowing it was a tell that the scribe was mulling something over. He did it often, either consciously or otherwise, Fíli had discovered some years ago. Ori pursed his lips, seeming to decide something, then he began to step closer to Fíli.
There was a determination in his eyes that for some reason made Fíli’s heart quicken.
Soon, they were standing less than a stride apart, Ori looking up into his eyes a bit more hesitantly than he had moments before. Still, the scribe did not back away. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on Fíli’s chest right above his heart.
Idly, Fíli wondered if Ori could feel the way his heart rate had quickened beneath his touch.
“Is this okay?” Ori whispered.
Fíli wasn’t exactly sure what this was, other than the hand firmly against him. He found himself desiring to know what Ori wanted, so he nodded.
Ori exhaled, his expression becoming less fraught with indecision as he did. Afterwards, he stepped even closer into Fíli’s space, then reached up and clasped both of his hands around Fíli’s neck. The latter found himself leaning down into the touch before he could think better of it, allowing his hands to rest on either side of Ori’s waist, unsure whether he should or not.
Then, there were lips chastely pressing against his.
Fíli should have seen it coming, really. Ori was not the first to kiss him. However, it was Ori; Ori tolerated Fíli. Or at least, he had for most of their lives. Furthermore, he had never once given any indication that he had a soft spot for Fíli in that way, as many others had. They were known to each other, yes, but only by virtue of having been in each other’s lives in some capacity for so long. Ori had never truly appeared affected by Fíli in the way that anyone else who had kissed him, or that he had kissed first, had.
And yet, here Ori was, reaching for him, wanting to touch him, for some reason.
When they broke apart, Fíli could see Ori was worried. Ori was anxiously glancing over every detail of Fíli’s face. For all they were not, Fíli did not wish to hurt or scare off Ori from him. The touch had been comforting, more than anything. It grounded him in a way that nothing else had that day.
Furthermore, though it was unexpected, Fíli found he didn’t mind kissing Ori. In fact, it was quite a bit more enjoyable than being at the wrong end of the scribe’s seemingly boundless annoyance at him.
Tentatively, Fíli reached out and caressed Ori’s cheek with a shaky hand. He wished he could read the shorter dwarf’s mind, because he truly felt at a loss for what to do otherwise.
He watched as Ori closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch. There was a small, soft noise that told Fíli what he had done was the right thing, not that it did anything for his blood pressure. They were truly in uncharted territory.
When Ori opened his eyes, he appeared less anxious than before. Fíli felt reassured by that, though he was still uncertain what to do next.
Ori seemed to know though, because he met Fíli’s mouth again, this time licking the latter’s bottom lip. Fíli’s brain nearly exploded right then and there; he must have stopped moving, because Ori began pulling away, only to be led back into another kiss that left less space between them than before.
Where first they had started slowly, there was then a growing fire building between them, with the flames being fed by more daring touches as they continued. Hands softly traced various places previously unknown to them, as they mapped each other out, like a cartographer would while surveying newly encountered lands.
When they broke apart next, Fíli felt the way his breathing stuttered, and his heart was beating more erratically than it had been before. Ori’s lips by then were kiss swollen, and his expression was anything but chaste.
There was an ache building at the idea that whatever this might be, it would be over too soon. Unlike earlier, Fíli’s mind wasn’t replaying what had happened during the battle while Ori was touching him, nor was he wondering about what he should be doing, while finding new places for his hands to gain purchase on a body that was not his own.
Furthermore, Fíli liked this version of Ori; this one that beheld him as if he were not a nuisance, but someone he trusted, and perhaps held a modicum of anything other than dislike for. Whatever had led to the scribe seeking him out, Fíli thanked all of the Valar for it, because it meant he did not have to be alone right then, with only his thoughts for company. More than that, it meant it had led Ori to him, which though unexpected, he found he did not dislike the idea at all.
Chasing that thought, he kissed Ori’s cheek, then began trailing his mouth down the right side of Ori’s neck. He felt Ori tense, then almost pulled away, until there was a whimper against his right ear. A hand then threaded into some of his loose hair, and so Fíli continued, pressing into swaths of the uncovered skin he could see, until he was worrying Ori’s left earlobe between his teeth.
A quiet exhale of his name escaped Ori, and Fíli knew then that whatever they were doing, it could not end right there. Not unless Ori wanted it to, because for Fíli, he wanted to turn that one soft exhalation into a stream of them, making the scribe say his name in reverence rather than irritation.
Pressing his cheek against Ori’s, Fíli did his best to steady his own breathing, before he murmured, “If you wish to stop, please tell me now, or at any point, really. I do not wish to give more than you’ll allow.”
Ori was quiet for a moment, before he asked, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“If you want to, yes. I’ve been surrounded by others for weeks, and I find it quite odd, being alone now. Perhaps that’s why before you got here I was still up pacing.”
“Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I see blood and hear the screams of others from the battlefield that we couldn’t save,” Ori whispered, his voice shaking as he did.
Ori’s head dropped against Fíli’s chest then, and the latter suddenly understood why the former had come to him. He, as much as Fíli, needed some sort of support or diversion in the aftermath of what all had happened. Someone who understood what it was to be amidst battle like that for the first time. Many of the warriors of their company were aging dwarrow who had seen more war than any of their younger counterparts. Even Fíli, though a trained warrior, was young, and felt more impacted than he had expected to be before their battle had started. Almost dying could do that, he supposed.
In the absence of a thoughtful response, he pulled Ori closer into a proper embrace, hoping he could tether the scribe’s mind in a way that helped, rather than harmed. The two clutched each other as physically close as possible, their breathing slowing as they held onto the other. Fíli buried his face into Ori’s neck, exhaling heavily into the more delicate bone structure.
Amidst it all, Fíli noted absentmindedly that Ori fit perfectly in his arms. It wasn’t something he had ever considered before, because why would he have? He was not enough of a masochist to pine after someone who glowered at him every chance they got. Still, there was something about this turn of events that did things to him that were not strictly platonic. Not that he would readily admit that to anyone, except on pain of death, or perhaps if the scribe himself were to let on he enjoyed it as much as Fíli was beginning to.
Fíli felt Ori shuddering against him, and he couldn’t be sure if the smaller dwarf was crying or not, until he pulled away to find tears tracking down Ori’s face. Carefully, Fíli reached up and wiped the excess perspiration away, before he could find an argument against doing so.
“Thank you for not laughing at me.”
“I know you think very little of me, but I promise that never crossed my mind, Ori.”
“If I thought so little of you, then I wouldn’t be here.”
There were a number of ways Fíli wished to respond to that, but none that might encourage what they had been doing any further. He had questions, too, but it looked like those would have to wait. The point was Ori had sought him out, and against his better judgement, he wanted to be whatever it was Ori seemed to think he could be to him for the moment.
“What do you need, then?”
“I need a distraction to shut everything else out. I can’t keep spiralling like this, or,” Ori bit his lip, and quieted.
Whatever it was Ori hadn’t said, Fíli imagined it wouldn’t be good. He could not possibly understand what it was like to have a mind like Ori’s, but if the most intelligent dwarf he knew was struggling to think in the aftermath, it was quite possible that those thoughts were more gut-wrenching even than his own.
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we.”
A resolve settled into Fíli then, as he threaded his fingers into Ori’s hair, and pulled him into another kiss. He could be a distraction. Ori always called Fíli one, and there were many ways to fulfill that role, after all.