February 2022
"As you know," Nicholas said, "it soon will be Valentine's Day, and I think after all of the chaos we have endured over the last two and a half years, it is especially important to celebrate this year. And now that restrictions are lifting and businesses are opening again..." Nicholas took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I would like to spoil you."
Sören, who was sitting on Maglor's lap, giggled and leaned in to rub noses with Nicholas, and kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose, making the older man smile softly, cheeks turning pink. Then Sören gave Anthony a hug and a kiss, and turned his head to kiss Maglor as well.
"What did you have in mind?" Sören asked.
Nicholas cleared his throat and looked at Anthony, who nodded. "We were thinking Ruth's Chris Steak House."
Sören's eyes widened. He'd never even set foot inside one - it was way out of his league for finances until he'd become a doctor, and after that he'd simply been too busy to go out to eat often.
"Wow," Sören said. "That's fancy."
"You deserve fancy," Nicholas said, petting him.
Before Sören could get too excited, Anthony said, "There is one small catch."
"Indeed. There is a dress code," Nicholas said.
"Oh god," Sören said under his breath, bracing himself.
"Business casual at the minimum. No jeans." Nicholas gave Sören a stern look. "No sweatpants."
"And when he says 'at the minimum', a lot of people do, ah, wear suits," Anthony said.
"And that's... what you're planning on wearing." Sören folded his arms. He of course had seen Nicholas and Anthony in suits before - he liked the way it looked on them, but he didn't like getting dressed up himself and tried to avoid it as much as possible.
"You can order anything on the menu and as much as you want," Nicholas said, "but we are all wearing suits so it would look out of place if you wore only business casual."
Sören grumbled.
"You'd look hot," Anthony said.
"Indeed," Nicholas said with a little smirk.
"I mean, I'd look hotter not wearing anything at all," Sören said. He couldn't resist. "I want to show up naked. 'Hey, I'm wearing a suit... my birthday suit.'"
Anthony and Nicholas facepalmed in unison; Anthony shook with silent laughter while Nicholas tutted and made exaggerated noises of pain. Maglor chuckled and ruffled Sören's curls.
Nicholas rolled his eyes and shook his head. "As you know -"
"Jæja, as you know, they shan't allow that and I needn't get up to such shenanigans." Sören gave Nicholas a peck. Then Sören let out an exaggerated sigh of his own. As much as he hated getting dressed up, it sounded like Nicholas and Anthony wanted to ogle him and it wouldn't kill him to humor them. It had, indeed, been a rough couple of years, and though their bond was stronger now - fire-forged - Sören knew any moments of happiness were hard-won and this was a fairly simple way to give them that. It wasn't like they would do this all the time, and he was getting world-famous steak out of it.
And Background Fëanor knew he owed Fingolfin for the ship-burning incident.
"You win," Sören said.
Nicholas hugged him and Maglor and Anthony joined in a group hug. "That's a good boy," Nicholas said, giving Sören a kiss.
Sören smiled. He did so love to hear those words.
If Nicholas won, Sören felt like he lost.
The food was enjoyable - Sören had a ribeye steak with potatoes au gratin, crab cakes, stuffed mushrooms, and lobster bisque - but Sören was reminded of why he hated to get dressed up.
Sören was wearing a white button-down shirt, grey vest, grey trousers, and a charcoal grey tie; he took off the grey jacket because he got overheated easily. Everything felt too stiff and uncomfortable compared to his usual jeans and a T-shirt, and he was acutely aware of "table manners". He felt like he was putting on a very bad act of someone he was not, somewhere he didn't belong. He knew some of it was his discomfort from having grown up poor, and being a poor student, until he made it as a doctor - even after he made enough money to be comfortable he was reserved about how he spent his money. Iceland's financial crisis also added to that reserve, even though he hadn't been living in his home country while it happened. But also, he knew the discomfort went all the way back to his life as Fëanor, who resented the pomp of the royal court and much preferred to be in the soot and smoke of his forge.
Sören tried not to let his unease show as the meal progressed, not wanting to be a downer, but of course his partners picked up on it, Force bonded as they were, and on the drive home Nicholas asked Sören, "What's troubling you, dearest?"
Sören sighed. He knew he couldn't get away with saying "nothing". "Oh, you know. Fish out of water."
"Was it really that horrible?"
"Food was good, but I." Sören made a vague hand gesture, trying to find words to express how he felt in a tactful way. "There's a reason why I don't do this sort of thing often. I was doing it more for you, for Valentine's Day."
"And yet it was a chore for you, which seems rather to defeat the purpose of celebrating our relationship, if not all of us are happy."
Sören nodded. "I'm sorry I feel that way, but I really did feel out of place there." And, tactful or not, Sören decided to come out with all of it, in the interest of communication. "It felt like, I don't know, an episode of Queer Eye or something, you guys trying to make me over."
"Oh honey no," Anthony said, reaching out to pat him. "I like you the way you are. I like that bad boy look, it's sexy."
"Indeed," Nicholas said. "You are my rough diamond, and they have their own glitter. I wish you could see after years of being together that I accept you as you are. I'm not trying to change you."
Sören felt guilty for having said it, and the flood of relief at the reassurance threatened to make him cry. He grasped for levity. "Hi Not Trying To Change You -"
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps that."
Sören stuck out his tongue.
Nicholas exhaled. "It really was simply trying to indulge you, after the privations you've known. Yes, I like the way you look in a suit, but neither Anthony nor myself were trying to 'give you a makeover'."
"Your brainweasels need a good kick in the arse," Anthony added.
Sören nodded. "Well, actions speak louder than words. I know you guys have told me plenty of times that you're fine with how different I am from you, but -"
"Oh, I'm sure we can... show our appreciation... when we get home," Nicholas said with a small, wicked smile.
Sören laughed; for once someone other than him had sex on the brain, and it always delighted him when it was Nicholas. But then Sören said, "You do that anyway. I mean, something... more. Something to really prove you're OK with me being about that casual life."
"Well, I don't want you to doubt for a second how we feel about you, so your wish is my command," Nicholas said.
Sören thought, stroking his beard. Then the idea came to him. "How about we do a second Valentine's Day dinner, this weekend?"
"You're going to suggest we go to McDonald's, aren't you," Nicholas said in a flat we've-been-here-before tone of voice.
"No," Sören said. He grinned. "Cracker Barrel."
For the occasion, Anthony put on the cowboy hat and boots that Sören had bought him as a gag gift two years ago, wearing them with a denim shirt and jeans. Maglor's attire didn't change much from its usual, wearing a Metallica T-shirt over a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and jeans. Nicholas wore a brown Icelandic sweater and khakis, and Sören wore a blue Icelandic sweater and jeans.
Nicholas glared at the menu like it had personally offended him. "They spelled dumplings wrong."
"No, they didn't," Maglor said. "It's dumplins. It's dialect, like how country folks talk."
Nicholas put the menu down and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Sören slurped loudly at his Mello Yello as he perused the menu. Maglor and Anthony exchanged amused glances as Nicholas picked the menu back up and every now and again glared daggers at Sören slurping at his soda. When Nicholas put the menu down again, Sören blew bubbles into his drink, knowing it was getting a rise out of him.
As Nicholas looked at the menu some more, his brow furrowed. "What on earth are hushpuppies. You didn't take me somewhere they serve dog, do you?"
Sören laughed so hard he snorted and soda went up his nose. Maglor tried not to laugh and failed, while Anthony didn't even disguise his amusement, face red, eyes too bright.
"Hushpuppies are fried cornmeal," Maglor explained.
"Why are they..." Nicholas shook his head. "Never mind."
"Ooh, they have cake," Anthony said.
"You are not ordering cake for dinner, Cornelius Anthony," Nicholas scolded.
"OK, fine. Those dumplins look good." Anthony smirked.
Nicholas rolled his eyes and made a noise like he was in pain.
"Jæja, I think I want the shrimp with the hushpuppies," Sören said, not able to resist goading Nicholas a little. "And some dumplins on the side."
"The trout looks acceptable," Nicholas said, his voice rising in a way that told Sören he had indeed been goaded. "It seems to be the only thing on this menu that isn't deep-fried or has a ludicrous name."
"I mean, that's kind of the point," Sören said.
Nicholas shook his head and Sören went back to blowing bubbles in his drink. This more than made up for his discomfort at the steakhouse.