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Summary: Boromir eats, Aragorn watches. (Follows "Gondorian Muffins".)

Rated: PG-13

Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir

Warnings: None

Challenges:

Series: None

Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes

Word count: 707 Read: 763

Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009

"A good axe is worth several swords!"

Aragorn sat eavesdropping on the conversation being held across the feast table.

Boromir was listening to Gimli extolling the virtues of his favourite weapon. Lately it seemed that between patrolling, comparing weapons with Gimli, and producing an endless supply of muffins for the hobbits, he had little time for anything else.

Aragorn missed his company.

There was still a little flour on Boromir's bare forearm from that afternoon's muffin making and Aragorn's fingers itched to reach over and brush it off. A thought that disturbed him greatly. This was a fellow warrior, a comrade, yet the urge to touch his skin wouldn't leave Aragorn's mind, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

In front of Boromir, there was a plate of asparagus dripping in herby butter. Between sentences he was eating the asparagus with his fingers, picking up each individual spike, tilting his head back to receive it and catching any stray drips of butter on his tongue.

There was a small bowl of pale, creamy sauce by his plate, and the next spike he picked up was dipped in the sauce before being lifted towards his mouth. His tongue darted out to taste the sauce before his mouth enveloped the spike. A little sauce at the corner of his mouth was licked away before he picked up another spike, pausing to comment on what Gimli had said.

Aragorn unconsciously held his breath, waiting for the show to continue. He now sat mesmerised, his own food forgotten, his fork halfway between plate and lips.

Unaware of the effect he was having on the Ranger, Boromir continued to eat, relishing every mouthful. He laughed loudly at one of Gimli's better jokes before picking up the last spike from his plate. It was a little larger than the others, and was heavy with butter. Boromir took it into his mouth, and sucked the butter off, before withdrawing it and dipping it in his sauce bowl. As he lifted it up, he caught Aragorn's eyes watching him from across the table.

The sight of the Ranger sitting transfixed brought the smallest of smiles to Boromir's lips. He held Aragorn's gaze as he took the spike into his mouth, easing it's passage with his tongue, and gently sucked off the sauce, pulling it almost out of his mouth, before sucking it back in again.

"Aragorn!"

A raised voice broke the spell, Aragorn's fork fell, hitting the edge of his plate, and landing on the table with a clatter. The sound brought silence to the rest of the room.

"I only wanted a song!"

Pippin's voice was plaintive and apologetic at the same time.

Aragorn brought a smile to his face for the young hobbit.

"And a song you shall have! Just give me a moment to finish eating!"

Laughter and murmurs of anticipation filled the hall once more with its customary noise. After hastily finishing his food, Aragorn made to stand up, then thought better of it. He tried to concentrate on slaying orcs and Gimli snoring, anything to take his mind off asparagus. He glanced across the table. Boromir sat with a wide grin on his face, and as Aragorn watched, he dipped his finger into the last of the sauce, licked it off, and winked at the Ranger before turning back Gimli.

He took his leave of the dwarf, and Aragorn watched as he made his way around the table to stand behind him. Then Boromir's hand was on his shoulder, and his mouth, so close to Aragorn's ear, whispered:

"You are so easy to tease!"

With that, he strode off. Aragorn stood, determined to follow him. He had a sudden urge to see if Boromir's mouth still tasted of butter. But before he could move, Pippin had grabbed a hold of his tunic and was pulling him to the top of the hall.

As he followed Pippin, he swore to himself that the next thing he did would be to pin down the Gondorian, and ask him what he was playing at. Unfortunately, this thought brought several images to mind, none of which put him in the mood for singing.

He sighed. Boromir would just have to wait.