文章简介

Dancing with my punchlines

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2106315.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/F, F/M, M/M

Fandom:

The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Relationship:

Fingon/Maedhros, Aredhel/Elenwë, Celeborn/Galadriel, Past Aredhel/Celegorm, Celegorm/Oromë, Caranthir/Finrod, Curufin/Finrod, Nienna/Vána, Maglor/Ríanellë (OFC), Ecthelion of the Fountain/Glorfindel

Character:

Aredhel, Fingon, Maedhros, Celegorm, Finrod, Amarië, Maglor, Caranthir, Elenwë, Curufin, Galadriel, Oromë, Amrod, Amras, Nerdanel, Beleg Cúthalion, Mablung, Haleth, Aegnor, Vána, Írimë, Huan, Glorfindel, Celeborn, Túrin Turambar, Fëanor, Azaghâl, Telchar, Anairë, Nienna, Turgon, Ríanellë (OFC), Andreth, Ecthelion

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, House Party, Alcohol, Conflict Resolution, nerds, Rugby, Angst and Humor, Alternate Universe - College/University, Characters of color, Jewish Characters, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, Recreational Drug Use, Humor, Fluff and Smut, Great Walloping Drama Monsters, self destructive behavior, Sexual Content, I will warn at the beginning of each chapter for sexually explicit/potentially triggering material

Stats:

Published: 2014-08-09 Completed: 2016-07-13 Chapters: 80/80 Words: 319563

Dancing with my punchlines

by LiveOakWithMoss

Summary

In which the sons of Fëanor throw house parties, the beer is terrible, 20-something hipster elves act like their drama is as bad as it is in canon, and macking on cousins is fair game.

75% banter, 20% soap opera, 5% fratty humor; 100% dramamonsters.

I regret nothing.

Notes

For backstory, side-story, and all other frivolities in this 'verse, check out Punching out my Dancelines, where I collect such things.

For all DWMP things that live on my Tumblr, check out my FAQs and masterpost.

Jump on my shoulders

Chapter Summary

Just getting down at a basement house party. With your...brother's...girlfriend. (Whoops).

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Hey.” Fingon caught Aredhel’s shoulder as she pushed through the crowded basement and tugged her to the side.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act dumb. You’ve been with Elenwë all night.”

“It’s a party. We’re dancing.”

“You’re doing a hell of a lot more than dancing.”

She stared at him, defiant. She was tall enough to meet his gaze head on. “So?”

“So?” Fingon ran his hand over his hair. “Christ, Ireth. She’s your brother’s girlfriend.”

“Talk to her about it, then,” said Aredhel, crossing her arms. “If she wants me, I’m not going to say no.”

Fingon grimaced. “C’mon, you know better than that. Just because it’s her choice to screw around on her boyfriend doesn’t make it okay for you to screw around with your brother’s girlfriend. There are rules about this.”

Aredhel tightened her jaw, and her eyes flashed. “I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.” He touched her lightly on the arm. “I don’t believe you care so little about Turno’s feelings. He loves her.”

“What if she doesn’t want him anymore?” Aredhel demanded. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively. He could practically see her bristling.

“Then she needs to have that conversation with him first,” said Fingon, firmly. “And you need to back off until they’ve got it worked out. Because making out with Elenwë with Turno in the other room – it’s not okay, Ireth.”

When she just glared at him, he tugged lightly at her hand. “You know it’s not.”

At last she slumped, folding heavily against his side. “Shit, Finno.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not fair. The first time I’m really crazy about a girl, and she actually wants me back – and she’s with – ”

“Yeah,” said Fingon. “It’s a bitch. I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Aredhel let out a great breath and pulled herself upright. “Okay. I gotta get out of here, then, or I’m gonna do something stupid. I – if she asks where I am – ”

“I’ll tell her you’re having an early night,” said Fingon. “No worries.”

“Augh,” said Aredhel, and turned up the basement stairs. “Fuck this shit.”

Fingon watched her go, face tight with concern, until he felt a light touch at the small of his back. He turned, and his face relaxed as he saw Maedhros.

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so.” Fingon sighed and leaned into Maedhros, who wrapped an easy arm around his waist. “I think I averted the worst of the train wreck, but Jesus, poor Irissë.”

“Poor Turukáno,” said Maedhros, mildly. “He saw, surely.”

“I hope not too much,” said Fingon. “They were getting kind of graphic on the dance floor.” He let out a groan. “Augh. Why am I suddenly being the responsible one? I’m uncomfortable with this role. Help.”

“You’re doing great,” said Maedhros, smiling, and pulled him into a kiss. “Need some distraction?”

Fingon raised his face, grinning, and asked, “You got a particular closet in mind?”

“Actually, I need you elsewhere.”

“What, laundry room? We’ve never done it on a dryer before…”

“Nope. Findaráto has challenged me in beer pong. I need you on my team.”

Fingon whined as Maedhros tugged him away. “Not fair, pitting alcohol against sex. You know those are two of my favorite things…”

“If we win, I’ll take you up on the dryer idea,” said Maedhros, and grinned as Fingon sprang ahead.

“Watch out, Ingoldo, you’re about to see how this is done…”

-

Outside, Aredhel leaned exhaustedly against a lamppost and took a long drag on her cigarette.

“Fuck,” she whispered, and blew out a long stream of smoke.

“You got more of those?”

She looked up and Celegorm was grinning at her, handsome and wicked in the light of the streetlamp.

“No,” she said shortly.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, leaning up against the post beside her. “Share?”

Aredhel rolled her eyes and handed the cigarette over. He took a drag and passed it back, turning his head to blow smoke at a passing raccoon. “Early night, huh?”

“I’m not in the mood, Tyelko.”

“I’m just making conversation.”

“I’m serious. Stop flirting.”

He caught her eye, then, and seeing the utter lack of humor in her expression, nodded, and his body language changed subtly. He still leaned up next to her, their shoulders brushing, but that certain charge was gone. She gave a little sigh of relief and tilted her head against his shoulder.

“Ugh, why is this happening to me?”

“I’m sorry about your girl.”

“She’s not mine.” Aredhel dropped her cigarette and ground it out with an angry toe. “That being the problem, see.”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, looking up at the bugs circling the circle of light cast by the streetlight. “Want to go somewhere?”

“I’m not going back to your place, I said – ”

“I meant somewhere we could drink. Like, seriously drink.” He nudged her. “Something other than piss beer and cheap ass vodka.”

“Oh, god, yes,” said Aredhel. “That’s exactly what I need. And you’re buying. I picked up your whole fucking tab last week.”

“Done.” Celegorm pushed himself easily off the lamppost and pulled her up with him. “Let’s go, kid.”

She sighed and tucked herself under his arm as they walked off down the street. “You’re gonna have to listen to me whine, just so you know.”

“Fair’s fair. You had to put up with my shit last year.”

“Yeah, you fucking jackass, I had to listen to you moan about Lúthien for a goddamned month…”

“Hey, I got over it. Lúthien who?”

“It just took several bottles of whiskey and some drunken groping,” muttered Aredhel.

“Isn’t that how everyone deals with a broken heart?”

“Hah.”

They rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

In the light of the lamppost, the moths still fluttered. One last glowing ember from Aredhel’s cigarette glowed briefly, then flickered and died.

Chapter End Notes

0. I was thinking about Finwions playing beer pong, as you do, and then I was thinking about house parties and dirty dancing in the basement, and then I realized the ones dancing dirty were Elenwë and Aredhel, and then it became a college booze drama.

Hello to the aftermath

Chapter Summary

The morning after.

Fingon opened his eyes, and instantly regretted it.

“Grah.” He moaned, and buried his head in the pillows. “I’m going to kill you, Maitimo.”

“Hm?” Maedhros stirred against his back. “How is this my fault?”

“You didn’t warn me Findaráto was playing with Amarië. The girl plays college basketball. She destroyed us.”

“Not my fault,” murmured Maedhros, tucking his face against Fingon’s neck. “I thought you were the beer pong champion.”

“I was. No longer, clearly. Oh god, my head.”

“Stop talking then,” said Maedhros, and Fingon pushed an elbow into his ribs. “Ow.”

“You’re not being very sympathetic.”

“You’re not being very quiet. This morning or last night.”

“Hah.” Fingon rolled over and grinned at him. “Definitely not my fault. All you. That trick with the dryer was inspired.”

“I was hoping you’d at least exercise a little restraint.”

“I can never restrain myself when you’re inside me, Maitimo,” said Fingon and laughed as Maedhros growled and pulled him into a deep kiss.

“We woke the whole house.”

“Probably.” Fingon pulled him in for a couple more clinging kisses before breaking away with another groan. “I feel like shit. It’s that fucking Keystone Light. It is cheap, piss-colored poison, I told you we should have gotten a different keg.”

“Take it up with Moryo. I wasn’t on shopping detail.” Maedhros swung his legs out of bed and leaned his elbows onto his knees, raking his hands through his hair once before shaking himself and standing. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

“Bless you,” murmured Fingon, rolling into the warm spot he’d left. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“Other than the trick with the dryer, you mean?” Maedhros made his way to the door. “I’ll be back.”

Fingon waved a lazy hand after him and closed his eyes.

He dozed off lightly, and was woken by someone sliding into bed beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. A kiss was pressed to his neck, and a low voice murmured, “Morning, beautiful.”

“Morn – wait.” Fingon’s eyes snapped open. He rolled over and swore violently. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tyelko.”

Celegorm was laughing at him, eyes dancing wickedly. He propped his head on one hand and smirked. “That’s the greeting I get?”

“Get out, you twisted freak.”

Celegorm looked wounded. “Why are you so cranky in the morning, baby?” He reached out to touch Fingon’s cheek, and Fingon kicked viciously at him until he yelped and pulled away.

“Don’t you have your own bed?”

“I was unceremoniously tossed from it,” said Celegorm, rolling onto his back and folding his hands behind his head. “It is a cruel world, Finno.”

“Who kicked you out?” asked Fingon, and then sighed. “It was my sister, wasn’t it.”

“Right in one. Brutally attacked by two Nolofinwions in one morning, it is not my day.”

There was a cough from the doorway. Maedhros was standing there, holding two cups of coffee, a dangerous expression on his face. “You have two seconds to explain what the hell you’re doing in my bed, Tyelkormo.”

“Easy,” said Celegorm. “Mine’s occupied.” He rolled over and hooked his chin over Fingon’s shoulder. “And your boyfriend looked so warm and inviting.”

“Tyelko,” said Maedhros quietly, as Fingon elbowed Celegorm hard. “I will kill you.”

Celegorm looked up at his brother’s face, saw no amusement there, and leapt from the bed. “Message received.” He made a precipitant exit as Maedhros glowered at him.

“Good riddance,” said Fingon, and threw a pillow after him.

-

The cleanup that morning – or afternoon, by the time most of the household rolled out of bed – was no small task, but at least they had a lot of hands to help.

Amarië was whistling as she swept the kitchen, she and Finrod having spent the night on the couch.

“Hello, friend,” she said cheerfully as Fingon slouched into the kitchen, dragging a trash bag. “Looking perky!”

“Ha ha,” said Fingon, and swept a countertop of cans into the bag. “You know Findaráto’s only dating you for your fine motor skills, right?”

“Don’t I know it,” said Amarië, and winked.

“We need music!” yelled Celegorm from the basement, where he was wielding a mop and a bucket of soapy water.

“On it,” said Maglor, making his way to the stereo.

“Where’d your girl go?” asked Caranthir, dumping another bag of cans into Fingon’s arms.

“She had to get up early for crew,” said Maglor, fiddling with the bass levels. “There’s a dragon boat competition coming up.”

“That is so badass,” said Amarië. “We should go watch.”

“I’m in,” said Finrod, wandering in with several more bulging trash bags. “Who puked in the bathroom? I’m not cleaning it up.”

“Hey,” said Fingon quietly, as Caranthir and Maglor argued over whose friend had gotten sick last night and therefore whose responsibility the cleaning was, “did you see Turno again last night?”

“Briefly,” said Finrod, and looked speculative. “He didn’t look very happy.”

“Was Elenwë with him?”

“They left together,” said Finrod. “But neither looked particularly pleased.”

“Christ,” said Fingon. “What a mess.”

“Where’s Irissë?” asked Finrod.

“Upstairs, as far as I know,” said Fingon. “Tyelko, is Irissë still in your room?”

“Yes,” called Celegorm. “Locked in, for fuck’s sake. I can’t even get in to get my clothes.”

“I was wondering why you were mopping in your underwear,” said Finrod, wrinkling his nose.

Celegorm struck a pose at the bottom of the stairs. “You know you like it, Ingoldo.”

“Ack,” said Finrod, and turned away.

Maglor, who’d lost the argument over who was cleaning the bathroom, appeared, looking repulsed. “I need to do some laundry. Like, immediately.”

He vanished into the laundry room, as Caranthir laughed. Almost immediately there came a cry. “Who the fuck broke the dryer?”

“Whoops,” said Fingon, and beat a hasty retreat.

Soul of a new hope

Chapter Summary

In which Aredhel stands under Elenwë’s window holding a boombox over her head. (Or: in which I really just want this to be a romantic comedy.)

Curufin raised his eyebrows when he entered the kitchen and saw Celegorm sitting at the table, reading the newspaper in his boxers.

“It’s 4pm,” Curufin observed, taking a seat across from his brother. “You still haven’t managed to clothe yourself? I get that the party last night ran late, but…”

“Can’t access my clothes,” said Celegorm unconcernedly, flipping to the comics. “A woman scorned is camped out in my room.”

“Did you scorn her?” Curufin asked shrewdly. It wouldn’t be the first time Celegorm had offended his visitor from the night before and had her go apeshit on his belongings.