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Boromir’s laugh was so loud, it echoed through the empty corridors. Faramir couldn’t help himself and elbowed him in the side.
‘Will you shut up already?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just…’ Boromir tried to compose himself, but then lost it again.
‘It’s nót that bad,’ Faramir insisted. He groaned in shame and followed his brother into his study. At times like this, he wished his brother was off on some sort of mission. Not watching his every move.
‘Yes, it was!’ Boromir finally swallowed the last of the remaining giggles. ‘You flipped your hair, looked him dead in the eye, smirked and then berated the Counsilmen! It was precious, Faramir.’
Faramir frowned when he saw the glint in Boromir’s eyes.
‘The King was quite captivated by your performance, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Please stop.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘I was nót flirting with the King.’ Alright, maybe he was, but he wasn’t going to tell his older brother that. Boromir would never let it go.
‘You weren’t?’
The new voice made him shiver. Faramir paled when he saw the King, leaning against the doorframe. The conversation made him forget about everything else, as often happened when the King was on his mind. Had Elessar heard everything? Faramir could only hope not.
‘I’ll take my leave,’ Boromir murmured. He patted Faramir on his shoulder and disappeared.
The door closed with a heavy sound and then it was just the two of them.
Wide-eyed, Faramir followed every move of the man, who was closing the distance with firm paces.
‘My liege! I’m sorry for…’ He stood and fell silent when the King stopped right in front of him.
‘No need to apologise, Faramir.’
He sighed and dared to relax his shoulders a bit. But then stiffened again. He felt the fingertips of his King brushing away a stray lock of hair.
‘I must confess that I quite enjoyed it. The Counsil could do with a good tongue-lashing.’
Faramir felt his heart skip a beat, before thumping louder and louder. He swallowed, trying to compose himself.
‘So…’ the other man leaned in. ‘You were not flirting?’
‘My… my liege... I…’ he stammered.
‘Because I was hoping you were.’
The soft spoken words made his mind go blank. He was very certain the other man can feel his shock. Because surely… surely the King couldn’t be serious? Faramir knew very well that people frowned upon it. Two men. Together. It was not done.
‘Don’t mock me, please,’ he whispered. He felt flustered and flushed and had to look away.
For a moment, the confession which was not quite a confession, hung between them in silence.
‘I would never mock you, Faramir.’
Gentle fingers accompanied the gentle words. Lifting his chin, forcing him to look at his King again.
‘I would not mock you,’ the King repeated. ‘Certainly not your feelings regarding me.’
Faramir’s breathing quickened when he felt those fingers brushing his cheek, cupping his face for a brief moment, before settling on his shoulder. Faramir could only breathe and watch his King.
‘Forgive me if this is not what you want, but I need to know. I… at least once, I need to feel…’
It was strange to hear the King at a loss for words. Before Faramir could analyse it further, the King gripped his shirt tightly, pulling him closer.
‘Aragorn,’ he breathed.
And that must have been the best thing so say, because next thing he knew, their lips met. It was so unbearably soft and careful, Faramir thought it must have been a dream. But if it was a dream, he best enjoyed it while it last. His arms circled around Aragorn, pulling him flush to his body. Without thinking twice he deepened the kiss. After all, it was what he’s been thinking about for months now.
He only let his King go when he desperately needed air. Did this really happen? A bit bewildered he stared at the man in his arms.
Aragorn’s grey eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘So this flirting-move of yours… was it the hair flipping? The smirk? Or was it berating the Counsil?’
Faramir groaned and rested his head against Aragorn’s shoulder. ‘Please shut up!’
He could feel Aragorn shaking with laughter. ‘Oh no, my dear Steward, I’m never letting this go.’