Maglor/Daeron....or, technically, what SHOULD be Maglor/Daeron
Maglor. Daeron. A pin-up. Ticklefights. Tangoing. Emo. Slapping around with the clue-by-four of life. AND CLUELESSNESS.
What more do you want out of life? Besides Maglor and Daeron getting it into their heads that they should just shag already? First log contains Maglor and Daeron's actions of the night, and the second log containts Miles painting the picture in big neon letters for Daeron.
[Daeron] *curled up in an armchair with his coffee*
[Miles] *waves to Daeron if he looks that way*
[Daeron] *blinks and waves back*
[Miles] Daeron, right? *grin*
[Daeron] *nods* And you are Miles?
[Miles] That's me, yeah. How're you?
[Daeron] Things are a bit dull, but some would count that as a blessing.
[Miles] Oh, yeah. Dull's something of a rare commodity in my line of work.
[Daeron] What was it you did again? Something with timestreams?
[Miles] *grins* No, that's just one of the Spec-Ops departments. I'm in -- well, it's classified. Suffice to say it involves guns and not-so-nice people.
[Daeron] I can see why you claim it is normally exciting.
[Miles] Exciting on a slow day. *laughs* What'd you say you did again?
[IckleFea] *takes pictures of Miles and Daeron*
[Miles] *grins at the camera a few times*
[Matilda] *well, then. Takes a picture of Daeron and Miles instead*
[Daeron] I did not. I am still a bit unsure as to what I want to do...but I teach some. *blinks and tries to hide behind his hair at the camera*
[Miles] *is a bit of a camerawhore, so talks while grinning at said camera* Oh, fun. What d'you teach?
[IckleFea] *beams at Miles*
[Miles] *grins at ickleFeathing*
[Daeron] *a bit quieter due to the camera* Music. Dancing if there are no other openings.
[Miles] Ohh, I see. I've always wanted to get into music, but I'm hopelessly unteachable. And I'm hell in the dancing department.
[IckleFea] *grins at Daeron* I like music!
[Daeron] I doubt that is true. It depends on how good a teacher you get. Some get frustrated too easily- *looks at Fëanor* *slight smile*
[Miles] Eh. True. Someday my day will come. Or something. *grin*
[IckleFea] *walks up to Daeron and Miles, then* What sort of music?
[Miles] *aww, ickleElfthing*
[Daeron] *smiles* Many sorts. Those you make on the flute or harp or many other insturments, or with your own voice.
[IckleFea] *smilesmile* Are you good?
[Miles] *listens, amusion'd*
[Daeron] I have been told so, from time to time.
[IckleFea] Will you sing for me?
[Daeron] *smiles a little more* I suppose, yes. What sort of song would you like me to sing?
[IckleFea] Hmmm. The Song of the Trees?
[Miles] *looks a little curious* The Song of the Trees?
[Daeron] *blinks* It's an...ancient song. And I am afraid it is one I cannot sing, as I do not know it.
[IckleFea] *frowns* But it's beautiful!
[Daeron] ...I'm sorry?
[IckleFea] ... well, you pick a song then.
[Maitimo] [[The Bad Touch!]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: I hate you.]]
[Maitimo] [[...I/mean/.]]
[Daeron] [[ Claire, I love you. ]]
[IckleFea] [[Ickle Fëa: O.o]]
[Daeron] Hmm. *thinks for a momment, and then begins to sing, a light, and, for Daeron, rather cheerful song from Old* *and his Daeron, so he sings it damn well :D*
[IckleFea] *listens happily, then*
[Miles] *listens too, whee*
[Maglor] *wanders in*
[IckleFea] *sits on floor listening to Daeron*
[Daeron] *--totally singing for your wee!father*
[Miles] *totally listening, too*
[Daeron] *--and this random human I found*
[Maglor] *is that Daeron singing? Sounds like it... but that's way too cheerful for him* *oh look, it is-- --is that /Curufin/?* *...No, it isn't. OME.*
[IckleFea] *might as well be Curufin. Bah.*
[Maglor] *yes, but we're sure there are a few subtle differences. For one, you're not attatched to Celegorm*
[IckleFea] *.......right*
[Daeron] *doesn't notice Maglor, as is easily lost in music*
[IckleFea] *doesn't notice either, and wouldn't know whom to notice anyway*
[Maglor] *will wander over there, then, because this is about as surreal as it gets*
[Miles] *waves to Maglor*
[Maglor] *nods to him, and listens*
[Daeron] *keeps it shorter than his wont, at least, and at last tapers off to silence*
[IckleFea] *a bit breathless* That was very pretty! I've never heard it before, but it was beautiful!
[Maglor] *can't help but smile, because, y'know, it's Daeronsinging* *and, wow... my Ata was a /cute/ kid*
[Miles] *applauds*
[Daeron] *smiles at him* Thank you... *notices Maglor and smiles*
[Daeron] *because, hello, it's Maglor*
[Maglor] *smiles back* Hi. *which extends to all three of them, not just Daeron*
[IckleFea] *smiles up at Mags* 'llo!
[Maglor] Hello, there. *sits down*
[Miles] *extends a hand to Maglor* Miles Hawke.
[Maglor] *takes it* Macalaurë Canafinwë. Pleasure.
[IckleFea] *to Daeron* And what's your name?
[Daeron] Daeron. And yours?
[IckleFea] 'm Finwion.
[Maglor] *yes, we thought so* *leans back in his seat*
[IckleFea] *smiles* Thank you for the song, Daeron.
[Miles] *at Mags* Nice to meet you. *at to Daeron* Wow.
[Daeron] ... Son of Finwë? O.m.e. ... you are welcome. *attempts a smile and then shoots a look at Maglor*
[Maglor] *glances back like, yes, /that/ son of Finwë. Sorry*.
[Daeron] *.........* *back to Miles, because the brain is not going to fully process that right now* I am sorry, what did you say?
[Miles] I said wow. Because. Wow. That was impressive.
[Maglor] *small grin*
[Daeron] *shy smile* Thank you.
[IckleFea] *beams* You should sing more often!
[Daeron] *you'd think he'd get used to praise, but noooo*
[Maglor] *awwww*
[Daeron] I am sure you will get sick of my singing if I sing as much as I like.
[Miles] *shrug* I doubt it.
[IckleFea] *shakes head* Don't think so. You have a really beautiful voice.
[Maglor] *mild amusion* Not possible.
[Matilda] *pouts* Yes it is. I like meeting new people.
[Daeron] *flushes lightly* *to Maglor* You're biased.
[Maglor] *^_^* That's not the point.
[Miles] * -- may or may not be glancing between Maglor and Daeron in a significant way*
[Maglor] *would have NO IDEA WHAT HE WAS THINKING ABOUT*
[IckleFea] *oblivious*
[Daeron] *SAME* *typist is dying, though*
[Maglor] *here, too*
[Miles] * -- yeah, totally is with the glancing*
[Matilda] *scrunches nose* You're not very freindly.
[IckleFea] *picks self and camera up again*
[Maglor] *yeah, is still with the oblivious* *looks at the camera* What do you have, there?
[Daeron] *spots it, but does not realize the significance* *blinks at him*
[Snape] No. I am not.
[Miles] *grins innocently at Daeron*
[IckleFea] 's a camera! It makes pictures! Look? *takes photo of Mags*
[Miles] *in a sooooooo-what's-up-/here/? way*
[Daeron] *confused* What?
[Maglor] *blinks at the flash* *grins a little*
[Miles] ...hmm? *innocent*
[Maglor] You know, when you take a picture of someone, you're supposed to say "cheese"
[Daeron] ... you just had a strange look on your face.
[Miles] ...did I? Something like this? *grins significantly*
[IckleFea] *takes the picture and looks at it, then offers it to Maglor* .... cheese?
[Maglor] *glances at the Dae-Miles conversation, but fails to catch the significance, because the idea of being in love with Daeron has completely failed to ever occur to him at all ever*
[Daeron] ...yes, something like that.
[Maglor] *takes the picture and grins at the silly surprised expression on his face, and hands it to Daeron* Yes, cheese.
[Miles] *...ha, Mags. ha. ... :D* ...oh. *innocent!*
[Maglor] I think it's supposed to make people smile.
[IckleFea] Why should they smile at cheese?
[Daeron] *takes it* *stiffles a laugh* I should pin it on my wall.
[Maglor] ...Give that back. *snatches at it*
[IckleFea] *looks between Mags and Daeron* Do you know each other?
[Snape] If not, then, you are an immense rarity.
[Miles] * -- /grins/ at that*
[Maglor] I am not sure. Perhaps it's a silly-sounding word. --Yes, we do.
[Miles] I could go for some cheese right now. *...silly, did we mention?*
[IckleFea] oh! Do you sing as well, then?
[Daeron] *holds it away from him* No. *looks at Fëa and - yeah, is just going to let Mags explain that*
[Maglor] *takes a break from trying to get at the photo to smile at Fëa* I do.
[IckleFea] *beams* Do you know the Song of the Trees?
[Daeron] *tucks it in his jacket*
[Daeron] *frowns as the request directed at Maglor*
[Maglor] *stops mid-grab and sits back to look at Fëa* ...Yes.
[Maglor] But I haven't sung it in thirteen thousand years, kthnx
[IckleFea] *beeeeeams*
[Maglor] *looks withdrawn, despite the really, really cute Ata*
[IckleFea] Can you sing it then, please?
[Miles] * -- clueless!*
[Daeron] *buts in* *quietly, to Fëa, as if revealing a secret* Do not ask him to sing it now; wait a bit. His throat got hurt, and it is only now healing, and we wouldn't want to irritate it again with a lot of singing, would we?
[IckleFea] Oh. *worried frown* 'm sorry.
[Daeron] *smiles at him* It is alright, you did not know.
[Maglor] *not sure whether or not he's grateful for that* *small smile* It is alright, Finwion.
[Miles] *zomg OTP brainshare -- I mean, what?*
[Daeron] *just figures that when Maglor's ready to sing it, -he'll- bring it up*
[Maglor] *very true. And probably is grateful, is just also emo*
[Maglor] *so smiles emoishly at Daeron*
[Miles] *totally going to interrogate Daeron later*
[Daeron] *smiles back, trying to be comforting*
[Maglor] *is comforted, all right* *enough to sneak his hand around to Daeron's jacket pocket*
[IckleFea] *sneaks away then*
[Daeron] *thwaps his hand* /No./ Mine.
[Maglor] *makes a face* /Mine/. You get enough of me already, don't you?
[Miles] * -- and totally with the Significant Grinning*
[Daeron] I do not get to shock you nearly enough, so I must have something to console myself with.
[Miles] *ha ha ha. they are so OTP.*
[Maglor] You get to cover me in glitter more than often enough. What d'you need a pin-up for?
[Miles] ...*chokes*
[Maglor] *looks at Miles* ...What?
[Miles] ...that may be a bit too much information. *grins*
[Daeron] ... *puzzled look*
[Maglor] *equally puzzled look*
[Miles] *just grins*
[Maglor] [[Mags: What? We were at a ball, and he wanted me out of my costume so we could dance properly. And he likes glitter. *shrugs*]]
[Miles] [Miles: ...out of your costume so you could dance properly.]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: ...Yes?]]
[Miles] [Miles: Ever learn to tango? :D]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: Yes, why?]]
[Miles] [Miles: Horiz -- oh, good for you.]
[Daeron] *blinkblink* *thinks Miles is confusing*
[Miles] *shakes his head* Glitter, huh?
[Maglor] *blinks at Miles* Yes. *shrugs, and goes back to trying to get into his coat*
[Miles] *such amusion*
[Daeron] I. Like. Glitter! *struggles to keep him out of the coat*
[Miles] I'm sure you do.
[Maglor] A bit... too much. *in that case, will just try to get Daeron out of the coat as well*
[Daeron] You like it, admit it. *curls up in the coat so he can't get it off*
[Maglor] I wouldn't let you if I didn't, now would I? *...is going to end up with his arms around him, and this rate*
[Miles] *loves this. srsly.*
[Daeron] What would you do? Steal it? Burn my wardrobe? *attempts to escape the couch*
[Maglor] *scrabbles at the coat so as to get a better hold on him* Burn your wardrobe? You'd /die/. Maybe I'll just let you use it all up.
[Daeron] *ack, caught!* I'm not /that/ materialistic! --and you'd do no such thing. I'd get suspcious if you stopped whining about it.
[Miles] ...*glances at Daeron* *again with the Significant Grin* So. Glitter.
[Daeron] ...what about it?
[Miles] *in low, confidential tones* Is it better with glitter?
[Maglor] *blinks up at Miles*
[Daeron] *stops struggling, looking confused* Is what better?
[Miles] ...never mind. *grinning* Tell me, do you dance?
[Maglor] ...Yes, why? *still ineffectually trying to get at the picture, more for fun now than actual desire to get it back*
[Miles] Tango? *grinning. a lot.*
[Daeron] *blinks* I've learned some...why?
[Maglor] *looks at Daeron* It's a newer one, but... well enough.
[Miles] Just curious. *INNOCENT*
[Daeron] *looks back at Maglor, confused*
[Maglor] *shrugs* *thinks Miles is crazy*
[Miles] *is! :D*
[Miles] *but he may be right*
[Maglor] *and this is a /son of Fëanor/ talking* *thinking* *whatever*
[Daeron] *shrugs, and grabs Maglor's wrist to keep that pesky hand out of his coat*
[Maglor] *admit it, you like that pesky hand* *tries to twist his arm away*
[Daeron] *I'm oblivious to that right now, thanks* *probably works, due to Maglor being the stronger of the pair*
[Maglor] *alright, so, freeee!* *grins rather wickedly and shoves both his hands into the sleeves of Daeron's jacket, still with the aim of getting it off* *not, not /that/*
[Daeron] *-as the wiiiiind* *surprised noise* *leans against the back of the couch, trying to pin it on*
[Maglor] *will, therefore be pinning Daeron against the couch, probably pressed up against him and with his arms more or less around him -- Miles can choke and die now, if he likes* *tugs the jacket down Daeron's arms from the inside*
[Maglor] *is having something of a tussle with Daeron, and being smirked at by Miles, hi*
[Daeron] Not fair! *grabs the insides of the sleeves in an attempt to keep it on*
[Maglor] O rly? *laughs, and -- /wow/, Mags -- very much climbs into Daeron's lap so as to get better leverage*
[Miles] ..........*supresses squee*
[Daeron] *oof!* *indignatly as he can get without laughing* You're heavy!
[IckleFea] *frowns slightly, looking at the wrestling elves - there, noted - then turns back to Snape* ..... when?
[Maglor] *way to notice them when MAGLOR IS STRADDLING HIM, Fëa*
[IckleFea] *has impeccable timing, yes*
[Miles] *mmm, straddling. :D*
[Maglor] *it would seem the typists are conspiring to convince all the puppets that Mags and Daeron are screwing like angels*
[Miles] *...you mean they aren't?*
[Maglor] *anyway, grins* Stop complaining: it's my picture you're hoarding. *NO, WE AREN'T*
[Miles] *BUT YOU WANT TO*
[Daeron] It's a nice picture. *innocently* I can make you copies. *I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT*
[Miles] *HA, SO YOU SAY*
[Maglor] I don't /need/ copies, I need you to get your paws off of it. *YA RLY*
[Miles] *O RLY?*
[Maglor] *YA*
[Miles] *I DON'T BELIEVE YOUUU :D*
[Daeron] *simply* No. *...REALLY, for the civilized among us*
[Miles] *YEAH RIGHT*
[Maglor] So I gathered. Don't make me tickle you.
[Armand] *fidgets and yes, still standing, though he's not very tall. honest* Have you been here long?
[Daeron] *smirks* ...you wouldn't. Especially not in public.
[Maglor] *slides Daeron's jacket mostly off, and goes for that pocket again, then* *innocent* Why not in public?
[Miles] Tickling in strikeouts is foreplay -- ! *gagged by typist*
[Daeron] Hey! *has to let go of the coat to try and stop him*
[Maglor] *and, with fun elf-reflexes, will pry the coat off and go for that pocket liek whoa*
[Daeron] *fine. you've put me in a very pressing condition. I have to pull out the big guns, now.* *tickles him*
[Maglor] *pressing con--*
[Maglor] *very nearly squeals, but represses it* *bats at his hands* Now, /that's/ not-- *snickers* --fair.
[IckleFea] *glares at Mags and Daeron* Can you keep it down? I'm trying to read!
[Maglor] ... *looks at his wee Ata* *has to bury his gigglefit against Daeron's shoulder, /because/*
[Daeron] *amused* Of course it is. *grins* We're almost done. *continues to tickle*
[Maglor] *grabs at his wrists* I'll give you /done/. *tickles back, and as is sitting on him and pinning him to the couch, Daeron's probably at a little bit of a disadvantage*
[Daeron] */does/ squeal, and collapses into giggles*
[IckleFea] *glares again*
[Maglor] *giggles too -- quietly* *puts a finger -- although of course if he were really practical, he'd keep his hands busy tickling, and use his mouth for this, but apparently he isn't, unfortunately -- over Daeron's lips* Shhh-- he's reading. *can barely talk or whisper for laughing*
[IckleFea] *GLAAARE*
[Daeron] *tries to stifle his giggles, and ends up almost falling over over from silent laughter*
[IckleFea] *if looks could kill, this would be kinslaying*
[Maglor] *whaaaat, Ata?* *I'm trying!*
[IckleFea] *well you're not taking me serious!*
[Maglor] *we're taking /you/ serious. We're giggling at each other*
[Daeron] *is trying to be quiet, really!*
[Maglor] *yeah, doubling over, here* *shall we drag each other down under the weight of repressed laughter?*
[Daeron] *if you topple we're both going to end up on the floor*
[Maglor] *very well* *topples, while clinging to Daeron in his efforts to a) not be tickled and b) not laugh loudly*
[Daeron] *pulled off the couch!* *they might end up making a bit of noise with the whole falling bit* *topples half on Maglor*
[IckleFea] *right, another death!glare, then*
[Maglor] *sort of catches him, although most of the catching is done with his chest, and he's winded* .../Now/ who's heavy? *grins at him, still holding on tight and not thinking just yet of getting up*
[Daeron] I'm lighter than you! *attempts to poke him, but still might still be too caught to*
[Maglor] *laughs* Not the point. *and if they were ANYONE ELSE AT ALL, this would be the point where they SNOG* *but they AREN'T, so will just grin stupidly*
[Daeron] *leans heavier on him, if anything* It is the point. You're supposed to be big and strong. How am I ever going to have a good tango partner if you can't even pick me up?
[Maglor] ...Since when can I not pick you up?
[Daeron] Well. Pick me up without whining like a girl.
[Daeron] *women, please don't kill him because he's picked up modern phrases*
[Maglor] ...Not true. *pushes him off and rolls over*
[Daeron] *shoots him an amused look, sitting up on the floor*
[Maglor] *sits up as well -- stands up, in fact, and offers a hand* Try me.
[Daeron] Try you? *takes his hand*
[Maglor] *pulls him up and pulls him close, and grins* Yes. *will lift him now, with no objections*.
[Daeron] *lift'd!* *small squeak, then grins* Hey, I like this. I don't have to look up at you.
[Maglor] *laughs, and spins him around, not taking his eyes away* I'll get you platform shoes.
[Daeron] *laughs -actually, more of a giggle, but we've forgotten most of our dignity anyway* You'd have to get me /heels./ *very seriously* And no, if you do, I won't wear them.
[Maglor] *also seriously* Why not? *eyes his feet and sets him down again* You could pull them off. ...Stilettos. *nods wisely*
[Daeron] *really trying not to smile* They are terribly hard to dance in, I've been told.
[Maglor] *ohsoserious* It's been done.
[Daeron] I'm not sure I have the grace.
[Miles] *LIVES!* *stepped out a bit, we'll say, and is going to go back to snickering at the OTP. :D*
[Maglor] *snorts* Don't be silly. *spins him a little*
[Miles] *spinning is foreplay too -- *
[Daeron] I am /never/ silly. *but grins and spins*
[Armand] *rather half-heartedly stares at Maglor and Daeron*
[Miles] */grinning/ at Mags and Dae*
[Maglor] *grins back and tangos a little, laughing*
[Miles] *oooh, tango.*
[Daeron] *chuckles, and follows him into the tango* Where did you learn to tango? *assuming they learned seperatly, for once*
[Miles] *thinks that said tango should be turned u-- /Miles/.*
[Maglor] *grin* With Nanette Himmelfarr, the rabbi's daughter at the Scarsdale Jewish community center Een ze brothels of Buenos Aires Paris.
[Daeron] Oh, during your delightful Bohemian phase? You made quite the 'gypsy,' if I remember right.
[Maglor] *snorts* Didn't I? *still tangoing, apparently, and since they're themselves, we'll assume they can find a rhythm despite the lackofmusic* Where did you learn?
[Daeron] During my brief stint in New York, before the flappers took over the city.
[Maglor] *grins, and lifts him briefly* How did that work out?
[Daeron] *lands gracefully* It was not too terrible, but after they banned alcohol from the entire country, I decided it was not worth it.
[Maglor] [[Oropher: *perks up* Where is this, again?]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: America. But you wouldn't want to go there; they repealed it and became a corporate superpower.]]
[Maglor] [[Oropher: ...Damn.]]
[Maglor] *laughs* Shame. So that's why you came fleeing to Amsterdam that one time.
[Daeron] It really was. Shhh, I don't talk about that in public. *dances* You know, we should find music for this.
[Maglor] *grins and dips him* Yes, we should.
[Daeron] *grins back, and delicatly spins away after the dip* Then let's see what this plothole is all about.
[Maglor] *follows after him, and shall they find a record player or real musicians?*
[Daeron] *opens the plot hole and sticks his arm in* *you choose what he pulls out :D*
[Maglor] *peers at it* No, too punk rock. Put him back.
[Daeron] *pushes him back in* ...ew, hair gel. *wipes it on Maglor's sleeve*
[Maglor] ...Ew, it'll spread. *wipes his sleeve on Daeron*
[Daeron] *wrinkles his nose and tries to get it off* You try, this time.
[Maglor] *reaches in, and drags out a piano on wheels, complete with a pianist, and a violinist sitting on top* *eyebrowraise* Will these do?
[Daeron] ... I'm impressed. Apparently it likes you better.
[Maglor] *shrugs* Can't think why. *nods to the probably confused musicians* Tango?
[Maglor] Musicians: *shrug, and ready their instruments*
[Daeron] Maybe it finds you attractive. *amused smirk, before holding his hand out to Maglor again*
[Maglor] *grins* That makes no sense. You're prettier. *takes the hand, and ve shall tango!*
[Daeron] *amused* Maybe it leans more towards the handsome. *would be totally embarassed by dancing in full public, if it was not for, you know, Maglor*
[Maglor] O fickle, fickle interdimensional portal! *dips him dramatically* *isn't embarassed at all, mostly because things that aren't Daeron tend not to register particularly well when he's with Daeron*
[Daeron] Well, everyone has their little preferences. *grins and wraps his leg around Maglor's so he can be -properly- tango dipped* *has not noticed that he's in much the same state around Maglor*
[Maglor] *well of course he wouldn't, as that state isn't Maglor* *gleams* And some people have questionable taste. *properly -- read: sexily -- tango dips*
[Daeron] Are you being pointed with that remark? *smiles and returns to an upright position. because rising is much too Freudian in this situation*
[Maglor] Only at the plothole. *smiles and lets Daeron's weight shift to the other arm* *....would it be accurate?*
[Maglor] Musicians: *being good ones, and knowing good dancers when they see them, shall speed up a little, intensify*
[Daeron] Be careful what you say. Next time it could give you a crazy man with an accordian. *smiles and speeds up his steps with the intensifying of the music*
[Maglor] *laughs* Should I apologise? *matches Daeron's speed and the music's intensity, steps becoming less decent for public more complex and daring*
[Maglor] [[Miles? We're working on getting them to approximate this. http://www.imdb.com/gallery/ss/0294870/Ss/0294870/6170.jpg?path=gallery&path_key=0294870 ]]
[Maglor] [[So.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ......../good luck/. Wow.]
[Maglor] [[The thing is, though. If they do... they /totally won't notice/.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: .......*HEADWALL*]
[lurking] {{*silently walks out, kidnaps Daeron, shoves him into that dress, pulls him back out, and shoves him and Maglor* *leaves again*}}
[Daeron] *with all seriousness* I think so. You would not want to horribly crush a fan, now would you? *Less decent? In a -tango?- Psha. :D matches him easily*
[Maglor] *aghast* Never! *dips* ...It's possible...
[Daeron] *laughs* ...dirty dancing! :D [--- *that was the typist, thank you*
[Maglor] *THEY SHOULD DO THAT OME* *anyway, rights Daeron, grinning*
[Daeron] *leans forward to catch the momentum, bracing his leg against Maglor's hip*
[Maglor] *steadies his leg -- thigh, really - with one hand, the other firmly about his waist* *and is smiling directly into his eyes*
[Maglor] *and yes, THEY'RE NOT SHAGGING* *Go figure*
[Daeron] *steadies his upper body by wrapping an arm around Maglor's shoulders*
[Maglor] *is just going to pause for a moment in this pose for the catching of their breath, then*
[Maglor] *shall let Daeron's leg down by sliding his hand up to his waist, and resume the dance, smiling*
[Daeron] *dangerously close to some certain parts, there, Mags :D* *backsteps, returning the smile with a warmth that ANYONE BESIDES THE TWO OF THEM could read*
[Maglor] *possibly, but of is course oblivious, and if Daeron somehow picked up perception and isn't, that can only be a good sign* *lifts him, and no, still hasn't taken his eyes away* *because, of course, that's just how you tango*
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ...can they trip on each other's lips?]
[Maglor] [[I fear they still wouldn't get it, Miles dear.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ..........NO WAY.]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: NO. FREAKIN'. /WAY/.]
[Daeron] [[Hon. They've FLIRTED AND ALMOST!CUDDLED WITHOUT REALIZING ANYTHING.]]
[lurking] {{Hey Miles, shove their faces together!}}
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: -- I totally will. Can I? I /totally will/. The UST is /killing me/.]
[Maglor] [[See, the problem lies in that they're elves, and yet they're pretty smart. For elves.]]
[Maglor] [[And so the daftness has to catch up with them somewhere.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: /BUT THEY CAN'T FEEL IT?/]
[Daeron] [[CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT?!]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: ...no?]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: More like Can You Feel The UST Tonight.]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: ...What?]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: CAN YOU FEEL THE UST TONIGHT, THE SEX THE DANCING BRINGS, THE WAY YOUR FINGERS TOUCH HIS HIPS, AND POSSIBLY SOME OTHER THINGS?]
[Daeron] *gives a light laugh and steps back into the landing, grinning at him*
[Maglor] *supports his landing, and of course Daeronlaughter is infectious, so will laugh softly as he does so*
[Daeron] *only causes him to grin more* Twice in one week. We are working up quite a habit.
[Maglor] *grin* Not a bad one, I hope?
[Daeron] Nay, not at all. I think we should keep it up.
[Maglor] *HI, FREUD* That would be perfectly wonderful. *grin*
[Caranthir] *lo, a son of Feanor*
[Maglor] *is too!* *is also tangoing* *with Daeron* *Accomppanied by a pianist and a violinist they pulled out of the plothiole*
[Daeron] *FREUD!!!* Indeed. *smiles happily at him and - yes, totally tangoing. in a pretty fast paced and thus not entirely publicly appropriate sort of way*
[Caranthir] *stares at his brotherthing*
[Maglor] *oh, is also looking at Daeron's eyes and nothing else, and grinning, and not noticing the brother -- and they're COMPLETELY CLUELESS*
[Daeron] *sorry, only likes acknowledging one son of Fëanor* *so certainly not going to take his eyes off of him*
[Caranthir] Maglor?
[Maglor] *starts and looks over, still all happyhyper* ...Hi.
[Caranthir] ... what are you doing?
[Daeron] *...stops, and blinks at Cara* *er*
[Maglor] Sexing groping vertical tangoing ...Dancing?
[Miles] [Miles: :D :D :D]
[Caranthir] You know? I think I'm going to get some tea.
[Daeron] *not quietly pretending to be invisible against Maglor, really*
[Maglor] *blink* Alright. *still has one or two arms around him, so*
[Caranthir] *goes in search of tea*
[Daeron] *soft frown* *looks up at Maglor questioningly*
[Caranthir] *returns with tea and shall retreat to a corner*
[Daeron] *is uncomfortable with a member of the C-Unit in the room*
[Daeron] *remember the Second Kinslaying? Really harmless, there*
[Daeron] *--even though I wasn't around for that*
[Maglor] *can tell, and it's nice that the one thing they're awkward about is the family issue* *--knows that, Cara* *quietly* How's a drink, after all that dancing?
[Maglor] *yes, but you're /tangoing/ with another one of them, Dae*
[Daeron] *difference of about ten-thousand years of getting used to you. And the first thousand or so wasn't exactly smooth sailing*
[Maglor] *yes, /but/*
[Daeron] ... a drink sounds lovely.
[Maglor] *waves the musicians back to the plothole, into which they shall trundle obligingly, and leads Daeron into the kitchen* *your call on whether or not they're still holding hands*
[Daeron] *they don't seem to register it, so they probably are* *follows quietly*
[Maglor] *this is the part where, if they had a clue, would get Daeron into the kitchen and hug him tightly but, as they don't, will just quietly get them both drinks*
[Daeron] *takes a seat* *hi, a little distant*
[Maglor] *yeah* *and this is one thing he's finally decided not to be sorry for* *so hands him his drink and sits on the floor near Daeron's chair -- evidently likes the floor... dunno why*
[Daeron] *gives him a small smile* Thank you.
[Maglor] *doesn't even bother drinking from his glass, but sets it down beside him and looks up at Daeron* You're welcome. Always.
[Daeron] *slides down to sit by him*
[Maglor] *moves to makes room for him, a bit preoccupied*
[Daeron] *leans his head on his shoulder, but is more focused on his glass, really*
[Maglor] *puts an arm around him, for comfort and because that's the most natural thing to do when someone is leaning on your shoulder*
[Maglor] *looks down at Daeron, chewing his lip trying to find the words* ...He is my brother. And I have four others here, and I am still one of them. I cannot change that, and will not.
[Daeron] ... *quietly* I know. Who am I to I would not keep you from them.
[Maglor] I know you would not. But-- neither will they ever keep me from you.
[Daeron] *hi, relief from something he did not even realize he was terrified of* ...thank you. *rather hugs him impulsivly*
[Maglor] *blinks momentarily, but hugs back tightly* I can't deny them, who they are... who I am. But I will not go back-- I will not lose you.
[Maglor] UnlessyouhatemenowandwanttobutthenIthinkI'djustdieanyw ay
[Daeron] *hugs him tightly, and nods against his shoulder* I understand. OmenoIdon'thateyouyouaren'tallowedtosuicideordieinanyw aythankyou.
[Maglor] *I think that this would be called clinging* I love them. But understand. The love I have for them can never -- will never -- diminish that I have for you.
[Daeron] *very quietly* *in Sindarian, because that's what he does when stressed* Thank you.
[Maglor] *st -- Maglor, you're hopeless, but this in an emotional moment, so I'll let it slide -- strokes his hair absently* *just as quietly, in the same language* Always.
[Maglor] *murmurring* Always, dearest friend.
[Maglor] *and they shall cling for a while, because it's 1:48, and typist has to be up shortly after six*
[Daeron] You know...you know it is the same from me to you, no? *looks up at him* *and has we know that answer, CLAIRE SLEEP*
[Maglor] *softly* Yes. I do. *meets his eyes and nearly smiles* I know. *YES, MA'AM*
[Daeron] *very slight smile*
[Maglor] */ought/ to kiss him now, but they're clueless, so*
[Miles] *so! exists!*
[Daeron] *does as well* *as he normally is, except with a book added :D*
[Miles] * -- shall we pretend he saw the dancing? because, really, /dead giveaway/*
[Daeron] *certainly :DDDD wild tangoing, yo*
[Miles] *:DDD score!* *so, /grins/, and saunters over, leaning over the back of Daeron's chair, assuming he's sitting* Hi.
[Daeron] *blinks up at him* Hello.
[Miles] Whatcha reading?
[Daeron] Just something I picked up from the library to keep me from being bored.
[Miles] Bored? How can you be bored with -- whatsisname, the tall cute one with the odd name like yours -- around?
[Daeron] ... *raises eyebrow* Maglor? Well, true, he is not boring, but I cannot monopolize his time always. *slight smile*
[Maglor] [[Maglor: *eyes family* YES, YOU CAN]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: ...very well then. :DDD]]
[Miles] Seems like he'd want you to. *Grinning Significantly*
[Daeron] Well, I would certainly hope he would like having me around. *slight smile*
[Miles] It seems like he really, really does. Saw you dancing. *gringringrin*
[Daeron] Oh? It is fun. *smile of CLUELESSNESS*
[Miles] It's also really hot. *grin of INNUENDO*
[Daeron] *raises eyebrow* Us -dancing?-
[Miles] Yeah!
[Daeron] ...well, to each his own, I suppose?
[Miles] Oh, come on. You can't tell me you felt nothing.
[Daeron] ...what do you mean?
[Miles] ...that the only thing that stopped that from being a horizontal tango was that you were standing?
[Daeron] *...blank look* 'Horizontal tango?'
[Miles] ...can't tell me you never heard that one.
[Daeron] It sounds familiar, but I have a hard time keeping up with slang.
[Miles] *very seriously and very quietly* It means sex. * -- so about to crack up*
[Daeron] ...................
[Daeron] ...I assure you we do not do /that/ sort of tango.
[Miles] .../And why the hell not/?
[Daeron] *goes bright red, hi* Because-because-we're not-I think you have got the wrong impression of us.
[Miles] I think /you've/ got the wrong impression of you.
[Daeron] ... *a bit stiffly* I am sure I know the both of us quite better than you do.
[Miles] Have you /seen/ the way you look at each other? Christ, it's like there's no one else on earth.
[Maglor] [[...Well for a long time, /there wasn't/]]
[Daeron] ...because...he's what I have. *...tries to make that more coherent* He is my best friend, and the only one I have had for...a long time.
[Miles] And /you're also in love with him/.
[Daeron] *goes redder, if possible* But-what-I-we're /not!/
[Miles] *firmly* You /are/.
[Daeron] And just what proof do you have? So we danced. Hundreds of people dance without there being romantic connantations.
[Miles] Yes. They do. But lemme tell you a few things. One, it's impossible to dance the Tango in a way that doesn't channel some sort of sex. It's a /sexy dance/. There's a reason sex is the horizontal tango, after all.
[Miles] Two, any feelings between the partners? Are going to show when you dance. Like, if there's some unspoken grudge? It'll come out. If there's history? It'll show. If there's an attraction? /It shows/.
[Miles] Three, hundreds of people dance. But very few dance the way I saw you two dancing. There's something there, and I'll bet my best gun -- and damn, it's a really sweet gun, too -- that it's absolutely mutual.
[Daeron] *totally PWNED, even if he won't admit it* *quietly* But-but-it's /Maglor./ He's... *scrambles mentally for something*
[Miles] ...he's what? Charming? Hot? Your best friend? A really damn good dancer? Clearly very attracted to you?
[Daeron] *going to quietly mouth nothing in protest*
[Miles] *smiles faintly and puts a hand on his shoulder* This probably sounds absolutely crazy coming from someone who's known you all of two days. But trust me, I know love.
[Daeron] ...... *brain flatline*
[Miles] * -- is going to beam, kiss his cheek, and head out, then, apparently*
What more do you want out of life? Besides Maglor and Daeron getting it into their heads that they should just shag already? First log contains Maglor and Daeron's actions of the night, and the second log containts Miles painting the picture in big neon letters for Daeron.
[Daeron] *curled up in an armchair with his coffee*
[Miles] *waves to Daeron if he looks that way*
[Daeron] *blinks and waves back*
[Miles] Daeron, right? *grin*
[Daeron] *nods* And you are Miles?
[Miles] That's me, yeah. How're you?
[Daeron] Things are a bit dull, but some would count that as a blessing.
[Miles] Oh, yeah. Dull's something of a rare commodity in my line of work.
[Daeron] What was it you did again? Something with timestreams?
[Miles] *grins* No, that's just one of the Spec-Ops departments. I'm in -- well, it's classified. Suffice to say it involves guns and not-so-nice people.
[Daeron] I can see why you claim it is normally exciting.
[Miles] Exciting on a slow day. *laughs* What'd you say you did again?
[IckleFea] *takes pictures of Miles and Daeron*
[Miles] *grins at the camera a few times*
[Matilda] *well, then. Takes a picture of Daeron and Miles instead*
[Daeron] I did not. I am still a bit unsure as to what I want to do...but I teach some. *blinks and tries to hide behind his hair at the camera*
[Miles] *is a bit of a camerawhore, so talks while grinning at said camera* Oh, fun. What d'you teach?
[IckleFea] *beams at Miles*
[Miles] *grins at ickleFeathing*
[Daeron] *a bit quieter due to the camera* Music. Dancing if there are no other openings.
[Miles] Ohh, I see. I've always wanted to get into music, but I'm hopelessly unteachable. And I'm hell in the dancing department.
[IckleFea] *grins at Daeron* I like music!
[Daeron] I doubt that is true. It depends on how good a teacher you get. Some get frustrated too easily- *looks at Fëanor* *slight smile*
[Miles] Eh. True. Someday my day will come. Or something. *grin*
[IckleFea] *walks up to Daeron and Miles, then* What sort of music?
[Miles] *aww, ickleElfthing*
[Daeron] *smiles* Many sorts. Those you make on the flute or harp or many other insturments, or with your own voice.
[IckleFea] *smilesmile* Are you good?
[Miles] *listens, amusion'd*
[Daeron] I have been told so, from time to time.
[IckleFea] Will you sing for me?
[Daeron] *smiles a little more* I suppose, yes. What sort of song would you like me to sing?
[IckleFea] Hmmm. The Song of the Trees?
[Miles] *looks a little curious* The Song of the Trees?
[Daeron] *blinks* It's an...ancient song. And I am afraid it is one I cannot sing, as I do not know it.
[IckleFea] *frowns* But it's beautiful!
[Daeron] ...I'm sorry?
[IckleFea] ... well, you pick a song then.
[Maitimo] [[The Bad Touch!]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: I hate you.]]
[Maitimo] [[...I/mean/.]]
[Daeron] [[ Claire, I love you. ]]
[IckleFea] [[Ickle Fëa: O.o]]
[Daeron] Hmm. *thinks for a momment, and then begins to sing, a light, and, for Daeron, rather cheerful song from Old* *and his Daeron, so he sings it damn well :D*
[IckleFea] *listens happily, then*
[Miles] *listens too, whee*
[Maglor] *wanders in*
[IckleFea] *sits on floor listening to Daeron*
[Daeron] *--totally singing for your wee!father*
[Miles] *totally listening, too*
[Daeron] *--and this random human I found*
[Maglor] *is that Daeron singing? Sounds like it... but that's way too cheerful for him* *oh look, it is-- --is that /Curufin/?* *...No, it isn't. OME.*
[IckleFea] *might as well be Curufin. Bah.*
[Maglor] *yes, but we're sure there are a few subtle differences. For one, you're not attatched to Celegorm*
[IckleFea] *.......right*
[Daeron] *doesn't notice Maglor, as is easily lost in music*
[IckleFea] *doesn't notice either, and wouldn't know whom to notice anyway*
[Maglor] *will wander over there, then, because this is about as surreal as it gets*
[Miles] *waves to Maglor*
[Maglor] *nods to him, and listens*
[Daeron] *keeps it shorter than his wont, at least, and at last tapers off to silence*
[IckleFea] *a bit breathless* That was very pretty! I've never heard it before, but it was beautiful!
[Maglor] *can't help but smile, because, y'know, it's Daeronsinging* *and, wow... my Ata was a /cute/ kid*
[Miles] *applauds*
[Daeron] *smiles at him* Thank you... *notices Maglor and smiles*
[Daeron] *because, hello, it's Maglor*
[Maglor] *smiles back* Hi. *which extends to all three of them, not just Daeron*
[IckleFea] *smiles up at Mags* 'llo!
[Maglor] Hello, there. *sits down*
[Miles] *extends a hand to Maglor* Miles Hawke.
[Maglor] *takes it* Macalaurë Canafinwë. Pleasure.
[IckleFea] *to Daeron* And what's your name?
[Daeron] Daeron. And yours?
[IckleFea] 'm Finwion.
[Maglor] *yes, we thought so* *leans back in his seat*
[IckleFea] *smiles* Thank you for the song, Daeron.
[Miles] *at Mags* Nice to meet you. *at to Daeron* Wow.
[Daeron] ... Son of Finwë? O.m.e. ... you are welcome. *attempts a smile and then shoots a look at Maglor*
[Maglor] *glances back like, yes, /that/ son of Finwë. Sorry*.
[Daeron] *.........* *back to Miles, because the brain is not going to fully process that right now* I am sorry, what did you say?
[Miles] I said wow. Because. Wow. That was impressive.
[Maglor] *small grin*
[Daeron] *shy smile* Thank you.
[IckleFea] *beams* You should sing more often!
[Daeron] *you'd think he'd get used to praise, but noooo*
[Maglor] *awwww*
[Daeron] I am sure you will get sick of my singing if I sing as much as I like.
[Miles] *shrug* I doubt it.
[IckleFea] *shakes head* Don't think so. You have a really beautiful voice.
[Maglor] *mild amusion* Not possible.
[Matilda] *pouts* Yes it is. I like meeting new people.
[Daeron] *flushes lightly* *to Maglor* You're biased.
[Maglor] *^_^* That's not the point.
[Miles] * -- may or may not be glancing between Maglor and Daeron in a significant way*
[Maglor] *would have NO IDEA WHAT HE WAS THINKING ABOUT*
[IckleFea] *oblivious*
[Daeron] *SAME* *typist is dying, though*
[Maglor] *here, too*
[Miles] * -- yeah, totally is with the glancing*
[Matilda] *scrunches nose* You're not very freindly.
[IckleFea] *picks self and camera up again*
[Maglor] *yeah, is still with the oblivious* *looks at the camera* What do you have, there?
[Daeron] *spots it, but does not realize the significance* *blinks at him*
[Snape] No. I am not.
[Miles] *grins innocently at Daeron*
[IckleFea] 's a camera! It makes pictures! Look? *takes photo of Mags*
[Miles] *in a sooooooo-what's-up-/here/? way*
[Daeron] *confused* What?
[Maglor] *blinks at the flash* *grins a little*
[Miles] ...hmm? *innocent*
[Maglor] You know, when you take a picture of someone, you're supposed to say "cheese"
[Daeron] ... you just had a strange look on your face.
[Miles] ...did I? Something like this? *grins significantly*
[IckleFea] *takes the picture and looks at it, then offers it to Maglor* .... cheese?
[Maglor] *glances at the Dae-Miles conversation, but fails to catch the significance, because the idea of being in love with Daeron has completely failed to ever occur to him at all ever*
[Daeron] ...yes, something like that.
[Maglor] *takes the picture and grins at the silly surprised expression on his face, and hands it to Daeron* Yes, cheese.
[Miles] *...ha, Mags. ha. ... :D* ...oh. *innocent!*
[Maglor] I think it's supposed to make people smile.
[IckleFea] Why should they smile at cheese?
[Daeron] *takes it* *stiffles a laugh* I should pin it on my wall.
[Maglor] ...Give that back. *snatches at it*
[IckleFea] *looks between Mags and Daeron* Do you know each other?
[Snape] If not, then, you are an immense rarity.
[Miles] * -- /grins/ at that*
[Maglor] I am not sure. Perhaps it's a silly-sounding word. --Yes, we do.
[Miles] I could go for some cheese right now. *...silly, did we mention?*
[IckleFea] oh! Do you sing as well, then?
[Daeron] *holds it away from him* No. *looks at Fëa and - yeah, is just going to let Mags explain that*
[Maglor] *takes a break from trying to get at the photo to smile at Fëa* I do.
[IckleFea] *beams* Do you know the Song of the Trees?
[Daeron] *tucks it in his jacket*
[Daeron] *frowns as the request directed at Maglor*
[Maglor] *stops mid-grab and sits back to look at Fëa* ...Yes.
[Maglor] But I haven't sung it in thirteen thousand years, kthnx
[IckleFea] *beeeeeams*
[Maglor] *looks withdrawn, despite the really, really cute Ata*
[IckleFea] Can you sing it then, please?
[Miles] * -- clueless!*
[Daeron] *buts in* *quietly, to Fëa, as if revealing a secret* Do not ask him to sing it now; wait a bit. His throat got hurt, and it is only now healing, and we wouldn't want to irritate it again with a lot of singing, would we?
[IckleFea] Oh. *worried frown* 'm sorry.
[Daeron] *smiles at him* It is alright, you did not know.
[Maglor] *not sure whether or not he's grateful for that* *small smile* It is alright, Finwion.
[Miles] *zomg OTP brainshare -- I mean, what?*
[Daeron] *just figures that when Maglor's ready to sing it, -he'll- bring it up*
[Maglor] *very true. And probably is grateful, is just also emo*
[Maglor] *so smiles emoishly at Daeron*
[Miles] *totally going to interrogate Daeron later*
[Daeron] *smiles back, trying to be comforting*
[Maglor] *is comforted, all right* *enough to sneak his hand around to Daeron's jacket pocket*
[IckleFea] *sneaks away then*
[Daeron] *thwaps his hand* /No./ Mine.
[Maglor] *makes a face* /Mine/. You get enough of me already, don't you?
[Miles] * -- and totally with the Significant Grinning*
[Daeron] I do not get to shock you nearly enough, so I must have something to console myself with.
[Miles] *ha ha ha. they are so OTP.*
[Maglor] You get to cover me in glitter more than often enough. What d'you need a pin-up for?
[Miles] ...*chokes*
[Maglor] *looks at Miles* ...What?
[Miles] ...that may be a bit too much information. *grins*
[Daeron] ... *puzzled look*
[Maglor] *equally puzzled look*
[Miles] *just grins*
[Maglor] [[Mags: What? We were at a ball, and he wanted me out of my costume so we could dance properly. And he likes glitter. *shrugs*]]
[Miles] [Miles: ...out of your costume so you could dance properly.]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: ...Yes?]]
[Miles] [Miles: Ever learn to tango? :D]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: Yes, why?]]
[Miles] [Miles: Horiz -- oh, good for you.]
[Daeron] *blinkblink* *thinks Miles is confusing*
[Miles] *shakes his head* Glitter, huh?
[Maglor] *blinks at Miles* Yes. *shrugs, and goes back to trying to get into his coat*
[Miles] *such amusion*
[Daeron] I. Like. Glitter! *struggles to keep him out of the coat*
[Miles] I'm sure you do.
[Maglor] A bit... too much. *in that case, will just try to get Daeron out of the coat as well*
[Daeron] You like it, admit it. *curls up in the coat so he can't get it off*
[Maglor] I wouldn't let you if I didn't, now would I? *...is going to end up with his arms around him, and this rate*
[Miles] *loves this. srsly.*
[Daeron] What would you do? Steal it? Burn my wardrobe? *attempts to escape the couch*
[Maglor] *scrabbles at the coat so as to get a better hold on him* Burn your wardrobe? You'd /die/. Maybe I'll just let you use it all up.
[Daeron] *ack, caught!* I'm not /that/ materialistic! --and you'd do no such thing. I'd get suspcious if you stopped whining about it.
[Miles] ...*glances at Daeron* *again with the Significant Grin* So. Glitter.
[Daeron] ...what about it?
[Miles] *in low, confidential tones* Is it better with glitter?
[Maglor] *blinks up at Miles*
[Daeron] *stops struggling, looking confused* Is what better?
[Miles] ...never mind. *grinning* Tell me, do you dance?
[Maglor] ...Yes, why? *still ineffectually trying to get at the picture, more for fun now than actual desire to get it back*
[Miles] Tango? *grinning. a lot.*
[Daeron] *blinks* I've learned some...why?
[Maglor] *looks at Daeron* It's a newer one, but... well enough.
[Miles] Just curious. *INNOCENT*
[Daeron] *looks back at Maglor, confused*
[Maglor] *shrugs* *thinks Miles is crazy*
[Miles] *is! :D*
[Miles] *but he may be right*
[Maglor] *and this is a /son of Fëanor/ talking* *thinking* *whatever*
[Daeron] *shrugs, and grabs Maglor's wrist to keep that pesky hand out of his coat*
[Maglor] *admit it, you like that pesky hand* *tries to twist his arm away*
[Daeron] *I'm oblivious to that right now, thanks* *probably works, due to Maglor being the stronger of the pair*
[Maglor] *alright, so, freeee!* *grins rather wickedly and shoves both his hands into the sleeves of Daeron's jacket, still with the aim of getting it off* *not, not /that/*
[Daeron] *-as the wiiiiind* *surprised noise* *leans against the back of the couch, trying to pin it on*
[Maglor] *will, therefore be pinning Daeron against the couch, probably pressed up against him and with his arms more or less around him -- Miles can choke and die now, if he likes* *tugs the jacket down Daeron's arms from the inside*
[Maglor] *is having something of a tussle with Daeron, and being smirked at by Miles, hi*
[Daeron] Not fair! *grabs the insides of the sleeves in an attempt to keep it on*
[Maglor] O rly? *laughs, and -- /wow/, Mags -- very much climbs into Daeron's lap so as to get better leverage*
[Miles] ..........*supresses squee*
[Daeron] *oof!* *indignatly as he can get without laughing* You're heavy!
[IckleFea] *frowns slightly, looking at the wrestling elves - there, noted - then turns back to Snape* ..... when?
[Maglor] *way to notice them when MAGLOR IS STRADDLING HIM, Fëa*
[IckleFea] *has impeccable timing, yes*
[Miles] *mmm, straddling. :D*
[Maglor] *it would seem the typists are conspiring to convince all the puppets that Mags and Daeron are screwing like angels*
[Miles] *...you mean they aren't?*
[Maglor] *anyway, grins* Stop complaining: it's my picture you're hoarding. *NO, WE AREN'T*
[Miles] *BUT YOU WANT TO*
[Daeron] It's a nice picture. *innocently* I can make you copies. *I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT*
[Miles] *HA, SO YOU SAY*
[Maglor] I don't /need/ copies, I need you to get your paws off of it. *YA RLY*
[Miles] *O RLY?*
[Maglor] *YA*
[Miles] *I DON'T BELIEVE YOUUU :D*
[Daeron] *simply* No. *...REALLY, for the civilized among us*
[Miles] *YEAH RIGHT*
[Maglor] So I gathered. Don't make me tickle you.
[Armand] *fidgets and yes, still standing, though he's not very tall. honest* Have you been here long?
[Daeron] *smirks* ...you wouldn't. Especially not in public.
[Maglor] *slides Daeron's jacket mostly off, and goes for that pocket again, then* *innocent* Why not in public?
[Miles] Tickling in strikeouts is foreplay -- ! *gagged by typist*
[Daeron] Hey! *has to let go of the coat to try and stop him*
[Maglor] *and, with fun elf-reflexes, will pry the coat off and go for that pocket liek whoa*
[Daeron] *fine. you've put me in a very pressing condition. I have to pull out the big guns, now.* *tickles him*
[Maglor] *pressing con--*
[Maglor] *very nearly squeals, but represses it* *bats at his hands* Now, /that's/ not-- *snickers* --fair.
[IckleFea] *glares at Mags and Daeron* Can you keep it down? I'm trying to read!
[Maglor] ... *looks at his wee Ata* *has to bury his gigglefit against Daeron's shoulder, /because/*
[Daeron] *amused* Of course it is. *grins* We're almost done. *continues to tickle*
[Maglor] *grabs at his wrists* I'll give you /done/. *tickles back, and as is sitting on him and pinning him to the couch, Daeron's probably at a little bit of a disadvantage*
[Daeron] */does/ squeal, and collapses into giggles*
[IckleFea] *glares again*
[Maglor] *giggles too -- quietly* *puts a finger -- although of course if he were really practical, he'd keep his hands busy tickling, and use his mouth for this, but apparently he isn't, unfortunately -- over Daeron's lips* Shhh-- he's reading. *can barely talk or whisper for laughing*
[IckleFea] *GLAAARE*
[Daeron] *tries to stifle his giggles, and ends up almost falling over over from silent laughter*
[IckleFea] *if looks could kill, this would be kinslaying*
[Maglor] *whaaaat, Ata?* *I'm trying!*
[IckleFea] *well you're not taking me serious!*
[Maglor] *we're taking /you/ serious. We're giggling at each other*
[Daeron] *is trying to be quiet, really!*
[Maglor] *yeah, doubling over, here* *shall we drag each other down under the weight of repressed laughter?*
[Daeron] *if you topple we're both going to end up on the floor*
[Maglor] *very well* *topples, while clinging to Daeron in his efforts to a) not be tickled and b) not laugh loudly*
[Daeron] *pulled off the couch!* *they might end up making a bit of noise with the whole falling bit* *topples half on Maglor*
[IckleFea] *right, another death!glare, then*
[Maglor] *sort of catches him, although most of the catching is done with his chest, and he's winded* .../Now/ who's heavy? *grins at him, still holding on tight and not thinking just yet of getting up*
[Daeron] I'm lighter than you! *attempts to poke him, but still might still be too caught to*
[Maglor] *laughs* Not the point. *and if they were ANYONE ELSE AT ALL, this would be the point where they SNOG* *but they AREN'T, so will just grin stupidly*
[Daeron] *leans heavier on him, if anything* It is the point. You're supposed to be big and strong. How am I ever going to have a good tango partner if you can't even pick me up?
[Maglor] ...Since when can I not pick you up?
[Daeron] Well. Pick me up without whining like a girl.
[Daeron] *women, please don't kill him because he's picked up modern phrases*
[Maglor] ...Not true. *pushes him off and rolls over*
[Daeron] *shoots him an amused look, sitting up on the floor*
[Maglor] *sits up as well -- stands up, in fact, and offers a hand* Try me.
[Daeron] Try you? *takes his hand*
[Maglor] *pulls him up and pulls him close, and grins* Yes. *will lift him now, with no objections*.
[Daeron] *lift'd!* *small squeak, then grins* Hey, I like this. I don't have to look up at you.
[Maglor] *laughs, and spins him around, not taking his eyes away* I'll get you platform shoes.
[Daeron] *laughs -actually, more of a giggle, but we've forgotten most of our dignity anyway* You'd have to get me /heels./ *very seriously* And no, if you do, I won't wear them.
[Maglor] *also seriously* Why not? *eyes his feet and sets him down again* You could pull them off. ...Stilettos. *nods wisely*
[Daeron] *really trying not to smile* They are terribly hard to dance in, I've been told.
[Maglor] *ohsoserious* It's been done.
[Daeron] I'm not sure I have the grace.
[Miles] *LIVES!* *stepped out a bit, we'll say, and is going to go back to snickering at the OTP. :D*
[Maglor] *snorts* Don't be silly. *spins him a little*
[Miles] *spinning is foreplay too -- *
[Daeron] I am /never/ silly. *but grins and spins*
[Armand] *rather half-heartedly stares at Maglor and Daeron*
[Miles] */grinning/ at Mags and Dae*
[Maglor] *grins back and tangos a little, laughing*
[Miles] *oooh, tango.*
[Daeron] *chuckles, and follows him into the tango* Where did you learn to tango? *assuming they learned seperatly, for once*
[Miles] *thinks that said tango should be turned u-- /Miles/.*
[Maglor] *grin* With Nanette Himmelfarr, the rabbi's daughter at the Scarsdale Jewish community center Een ze brothels of Buenos Aires Paris.
[Daeron] Oh, during your delightful Bohemian phase? You made quite the 'gypsy,' if I remember right.
[Maglor] *snorts* Didn't I? *still tangoing, apparently, and since they're themselves, we'll assume they can find a rhythm despite the lackofmusic* Where did you learn?
[Daeron] During my brief stint in New York, before the flappers took over the city.
[Maglor] *grins, and lifts him briefly* How did that work out?
[Daeron] *lands gracefully* It was not too terrible, but after they banned alcohol from the entire country, I decided it was not worth it.
[Maglor] [[Oropher: *perks up* Where is this, again?]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: America. But you wouldn't want to go there; they repealed it and became a corporate superpower.]]
[Maglor] [[Oropher: ...Damn.]]
[Maglor] *laughs* Shame. So that's why you came fleeing to Amsterdam that one time.
[Daeron] It really was. Shhh, I don't talk about that in public. *dances* You know, we should find music for this.
[Maglor] *grins and dips him* Yes, we should.
[Daeron] *grins back, and delicatly spins away after the dip* Then let's see what this plothole is all about.
[Maglor] *follows after him, and shall they find a record player or real musicians?*
[Daeron] *opens the plot hole and sticks his arm in* *you choose what he pulls out :D*
[Maglor] *peers at it* No, too punk rock. Put him back.
[Daeron] *pushes him back in* ...ew, hair gel. *wipes it on Maglor's sleeve*
[Maglor] ...Ew, it'll spread. *wipes his sleeve on Daeron*
[Daeron] *wrinkles his nose and tries to get it off* You try, this time.
[Maglor] *reaches in, and drags out a piano on wheels, complete with a pianist, and a violinist sitting on top* *eyebrowraise* Will these do?
[Daeron] ... I'm impressed. Apparently it likes you better.
[Maglor] *shrugs* Can't think why. *nods to the probably confused musicians* Tango?
[Maglor] Musicians: *shrug, and ready their instruments*
[Daeron] Maybe it finds you attractive. *amused smirk, before holding his hand out to Maglor again*
[Maglor] *grins* That makes no sense. You're prettier. *takes the hand, and ve shall tango!*
[Daeron] *amused* Maybe it leans more towards the handsome. *would be totally embarassed by dancing in full public, if it was not for, you know, Maglor*
[Maglor] O fickle, fickle interdimensional portal! *dips him dramatically* *isn't embarassed at all, mostly because things that aren't Daeron tend not to register particularly well when he's with Daeron*
[Daeron] Well, everyone has their little preferences. *grins and wraps his leg around Maglor's so he can be -properly- tango dipped* *has not noticed that he's in much the same state around Maglor*
[Maglor] *well of course he wouldn't, as that state isn't Maglor* *gleams* And some people have questionable taste. *properly -- read: sexily -- tango dips*
[Daeron] Are you being pointed with that remark? *smiles and returns to an upright position. because rising is much too Freudian in this situation*
[Maglor] Only at the plothole. *smiles and lets Daeron's weight shift to the other arm* *....would it be accurate?*
[Maglor] Musicians: *being good ones, and knowing good dancers when they see them, shall speed up a little, intensify*
[Daeron] Be careful what you say. Next time it could give you a crazy man with an accordian. *smiles and speeds up his steps with the intensifying of the music*
[Maglor] *laughs* Should I apologise? *matches Daeron's speed and the music's intensity, steps becoming less decent for public more complex and daring*
[Maglor] [[Miles? We're working on getting them to approximate this. http://www.imdb.com/gallery/ss/0294870/Ss/0294870/6170.jpg?path=gallery&path_key=0294870 ]]
[Maglor] [[So.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ......../good luck/. Wow.]
[Maglor] [[The thing is, though. If they do... they /totally won't notice/.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: .......*HEADWALL*]
[lurking] {{*silently walks out, kidnaps Daeron, shoves him into that dress, pulls him back out, and shoves him and Maglor* *leaves again*}}
[Daeron] *with all seriousness* I think so. You would not want to horribly crush a fan, now would you? *Less decent? In a -tango?- Psha. :D matches him easily*
[Maglor] *aghast* Never! *dips* ...It's possible...
[Daeron] *laughs* ...dirty dancing! :D [--- *that was the typist, thank you*
[Maglor] *THEY SHOULD DO THAT OME* *anyway, rights Daeron, grinning*
[Daeron] *leans forward to catch the momentum, bracing his leg against Maglor's hip*
[Maglor] *steadies his leg -- thigh, really - with one hand, the other firmly about his waist* *and is smiling directly into his eyes*
[Maglor] *and yes, THEY'RE NOT SHAGGING* *Go figure*
[Daeron] *steadies his upper body by wrapping an arm around Maglor's shoulders*
[Maglor] *is just going to pause for a moment in this pose for the catching of their breath, then*
[Maglor] *shall let Daeron's leg down by sliding his hand up to his waist, and resume the dance, smiling*
[Daeron] *dangerously close to some certain parts, there, Mags :D* *backsteps, returning the smile with a warmth that ANYONE BESIDES THE TWO OF THEM could read*
[Maglor] *possibly, but of is course oblivious, and if Daeron somehow picked up perception and isn't, that can only be a good sign* *lifts him, and no, still hasn't taken his eyes away* *because, of course, that's just how you tango*
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ...can they trip on each other's lips?]
[Maglor] [[I fear they still wouldn't get it, Miles dear.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: ..........NO WAY.]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: NO. FREAKIN'. /WAY/.]
[Daeron] [[Hon. They've FLIRTED AND ALMOST!CUDDLED WITHOUT REALIZING ANYTHING.]]
[lurking] {{Hey Miles, shove their faces together!}}
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: -- I totally will. Can I? I /totally will/. The UST is /killing me/.]
[Maglor] [[See, the problem lies in that they're elves, and yet they're pretty smart. For elves.]]
[Maglor] [[And so the daftness has to catch up with them somewhere.]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: /BUT THEY CAN'T FEEL IT?/]
[Daeron] [[CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT?!]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: ...no?]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: More like Can You Feel The UST Tonight.]
[Maglor] [[Maglor: ...What?]]
[crouchingtigerlurkingtypist] [Miles: CAN YOU FEEL THE UST TONIGHT, THE SEX THE DANCING BRINGS, THE WAY YOUR FINGERS TOUCH HIS HIPS, AND POSSIBLY SOME OTHER THINGS?]
[Daeron] *gives a light laugh and steps back into the landing, grinning at him*
[Maglor] *supports his landing, and of course Daeronlaughter is infectious, so will laugh softly as he does so*
[Daeron] *only causes him to grin more* Twice in one week. We are working up quite a habit.
[Maglor] *grin* Not a bad one, I hope?
[Daeron] Nay, not at all. I think we should keep it up.
[Maglor] *HI, FREUD* That would be perfectly wonderful. *grin*
[Caranthir] *lo, a son of Feanor*
[Maglor] *is too!* *is also tangoing* *with Daeron* *Accomppanied by a pianist and a violinist they pulled out of the plothiole*
[Daeron] *FREUD!!!* Indeed. *smiles happily at him and - yes, totally tangoing. in a pretty fast paced and thus not entirely publicly appropriate sort of way*
[Caranthir] *stares at his brotherthing*
[Maglor] *oh, is also looking at Daeron's eyes and nothing else, and grinning, and not noticing the brother -- and they're COMPLETELY CLUELESS*
[Daeron] *sorry, only likes acknowledging one son of Fëanor* *so certainly not going to take his eyes off of him*
[Caranthir] Maglor?
[Maglor] *starts and looks over, still all happyhyper* ...Hi.
[Caranthir] ... what are you doing?
[Daeron] *...stops, and blinks at Cara* *er*
[Maglor] Sexing groping vertical tangoing ...Dancing?
[Miles] [Miles: :D :D :D]
[Caranthir] You know? I think I'm going to get some tea.
[Daeron] *not quietly pretending to be invisible against Maglor, really*
[Maglor] *blink* Alright. *still has one or two arms around him, so*
[Caranthir] *goes in search of tea*
[Daeron] *soft frown* *looks up at Maglor questioningly*
[Caranthir] *returns with tea and shall retreat to a corner*
[Daeron] *is uncomfortable with a member of the C-Unit in the room*
[Daeron] *remember the Second Kinslaying? Really harmless, there*
[Daeron] *--even though I wasn't around for that*
[Maglor] *can tell, and it's nice that the one thing they're awkward about is the family issue* *--knows that, Cara* *quietly* How's a drink, after all that dancing?
[Maglor] *yes, but you're /tangoing/ with another one of them, Dae*
[Daeron] *difference of about ten-thousand years of getting used to you. And the first thousand or so wasn't exactly smooth sailing*
[Maglor] *yes, /but/*
[Daeron] ... a drink sounds lovely.
[Maglor] *waves the musicians back to the plothole, into which they shall trundle obligingly, and leads Daeron into the kitchen* *your call on whether or not they're still holding hands*
[Daeron] *they don't seem to register it, so they probably are* *follows quietly*
[Maglor] *this is the part where, if they had a clue, would get Daeron into the kitchen and hug him tightly but, as they don't, will just quietly get them both drinks*
[Daeron] *takes a seat* *hi, a little distant*
[Maglor] *yeah* *and this is one thing he's finally decided not to be sorry for* *so hands him his drink and sits on the floor near Daeron's chair -- evidently likes the floor... dunno why*
[Daeron] *gives him a small smile* Thank you.
[Maglor] *doesn't even bother drinking from his glass, but sets it down beside him and looks up at Daeron* You're welcome. Always.
[Daeron] *slides down to sit by him*
[Maglor] *moves to makes room for him, a bit preoccupied*
[Daeron] *leans his head on his shoulder, but is more focused on his glass, really*
[Maglor] *puts an arm around him, for comfort and because that's the most natural thing to do when someone is leaning on your shoulder*
[Maglor] *looks down at Daeron, chewing his lip trying to find the words* ...He is my brother. And I have four others here, and I am still one of them. I cannot change that, and will not.
[Daeron] ... *quietly* I know. Who am I to I would not keep you from them.
[Maglor] I know you would not. But-- neither will they ever keep me from you.
[Daeron] *hi, relief from something he did not even realize he was terrified of* ...thank you. *rather hugs him impulsivly*
[Maglor] *blinks momentarily, but hugs back tightly* I can't deny them, who they are... who I am. But I will not go back-- I will not lose you.
[Maglor] UnlessyouhatemenowandwanttobutthenIthinkI'djustdieanyw ay
[Daeron] *hugs him tightly, and nods against his shoulder* I understand. OmenoIdon'thateyouyouaren'tallowedtosuicideordieinanyw aythankyou.
[Maglor] *I think that this would be called clinging* I love them. But understand. The love I have for them can never -- will never -- diminish that I have for you.
[Daeron] *very quietly* *in Sindarian, because that's what he does when stressed* Thank you.
[Maglor] *st -- Maglor, you're hopeless, but this in an emotional moment, so I'll let it slide -- strokes his hair absently* *just as quietly, in the same language* Always.
[Maglor] *murmurring* Always, dearest friend.
[Maglor] *and they shall cling for a while, because it's 1:48, and typist has to be up shortly after six*
[Daeron] You know...you know it is the same from me to you, no? *looks up at him* *and has we know that answer, CLAIRE SLEEP*
[Maglor] *softly* Yes. I do. *meets his eyes and nearly smiles* I know. *YES, MA'AM*
[Daeron] *very slight smile*
[Maglor] */ought/ to kiss him now, but they're clueless, so*
[Miles] *so! exists!*
[Daeron] *does as well* *as he normally is, except with a book added :D*
[Miles] * -- shall we pretend he saw the dancing? because, really, /dead giveaway/*
[Daeron] *certainly :DDDD wild tangoing, yo*
[Miles] *:DDD score!* *so, /grins/, and saunters over, leaning over the back of Daeron's chair, assuming he's sitting* Hi.
[Daeron] *blinks up at him* Hello.
[Miles] Whatcha reading?
[Daeron] Just something I picked up from the library to keep me from being bored.
[Miles] Bored? How can you be bored with -- whatsisname, the tall cute one with the odd name like yours -- around?
[Daeron] ... *raises eyebrow* Maglor? Well, true, he is not boring, but I cannot monopolize his time always. *slight smile*
[Maglor] [[Maglor: *eyes family* YES, YOU CAN]]
[Daeron] [[Daeron: ...very well then. :DDD]]
[Miles] Seems like he'd want you to. *Grinning Significantly*
[Daeron] Well, I would certainly hope he would like having me around. *slight smile*
[Miles] It seems like he really, really does. Saw you dancing. *gringringrin*
[Daeron] Oh? It is fun. *smile of CLUELESSNESS*
[Miles] It's also really hot. *grin of INNUENDO*
[Daeron] *raises eyebrow* Us -dancing?-
[Miles] Yeah!
[Daeron] ...well, to each his own, I suppose?
[Miles] Oh, come on. You can't tell me you felt nothing.
[Daeron] ...what do you mean?
[Miles] ...that the only thing that stopped that from being a horizontal tango was that you were standing?
[Daeron] *...blank look* 'Horizontal tango?'
[Miles] ...can't tell me you never heard that one.
[Daeron] It sounds familiar, but I have a hard time keeping up with slang.
[Miles] *very seriously and very quietly* It means sex. * -- so about to crack up*
[Daeron] ...................
[Daeron] ...I assure you we do not do /that/ sort of tango.
[Miles] .../And why the hell not/?
[Daeron] *goes bright red, hi* Because-because-we're not-I think you have got the wrong impression of us.
[Miles] I think /you've/ got the wrong impression of you.
[Daeron] ... *a bit stiffly* I am sure I know the both of us quite better than you do.
[Miles] Have you /seen/ the way you look at each other? Christ, it's like there's no one else on earth.
[Maglor] [[...Well for a long time, /there wasn't/]]
[Daeron] ...because...he's what I have. *...tries to make that more coherent* He is my best friend, and the only one I have had for...a long time.
[Miles] And /you're also in love with him/.
[Daeron] *goes redder, if possible* But-what-I-we're /not!/
[Miles] *firmly* You /are/.
[Daeron] And just what proof do you have? So we danced. Hundreds of people dance without there being romantic connantations.
[Miles] Yes. They do. But lemme tell you a few things. One, it's impossible to dance the Tango in a way that doesn't channel some sort of sex. It's a /sexy dance/. There's a reason sex is the horizontal tango, after all.
[Miles] Two, any feelings between the partners? Are going to show when you dance. Like, if there's some unspoken grudge? It'll come out. If there's history? It'll show. If there's an attraction? /It shows/.
[Miles] Three, hundreds of people dance. But very few dance the way I saw you two dancing. There's something there, and I'll bet my best gun -- and damn, it's a really sweet gun, too -- that it's absolutely mutual.
[Daeron] *totally PWNED, even if he won't admit it* *quietly* But-but-it's /Maglor./ He's... *scrambles mentally for something*
[Miles] ...he's what? Charming? Hot? Your best friend? A really damn good dancer? Clearly very attracted to you?
[Daeron] *going to quietly mouth nothing in protest*
[Miles] *smiles faintly and puts a hand on his shoulder* This probably sounds absolutely crazy coming from someone who's known you all of two days. But trust me, I know love.
[Daeron] ...... *brain flatline*
[Miles] * -- is going to beam, kiss his cheek, and head out, then, apparently*