"Little Things" 1/4
Aug. 21st, 2002 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaydeefalls
It is time. Part 4/4 is in beta, and should be done soon, and therefore...
The fic formerly known as, alternately, the Fic From Hell (TM) and Fic From Heck (on better days). ::inhales. exhales:: Okeedokee, here we go.
Title: Little Things - Ending (1/4)
Author: kaydee falls (OneRingDoodle@aol.com)
Pairing: DM/OB, mild DM/EW
Rating: R
Summary: Two pretty boys having sex -- what could go wrong? Well...
Archive: TAKE IT. PLEASE... just tell me where
Feedback: is to kaydee as water is to flowers
Disclaimer: none of this happened. i don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: I'm freely messing around with NZ living arrangements here. Let's assume that our boys each have their own house, shall we? Thank yous to Tash for preliminary read-over and Gabby (as always) for the wonderful beta.
I notice the little things first.
Orli and I used to be almost shy about sex. We would always ask first. Even in moments of passion, one of us would pause, pull back, ask "Is this all right with you?" with ragged breath. It always was, of course, but the question was still asked.
We never ask anymore.
Maybe it should thrill me that the question has become unnecessary. But I wonder, instead. Why don't we bother asking? Why do we just assume it will be all right?
If that was the only difference, I would shrug it off. But there are other small changes.
We always fuck from behind, now. In the early days of our relationship, we experimented, trying out a wide variety of different positions. "I want to be able to see your eyes, Sblomie," Orli said once.
Orli hasn't seen my eyes during sex in weeks.
And another thing. We don't really kiss anymore. Not that we've ever been too demonstrative in public, but now we rarely even give each other pecks on the cheek. And at night, in bed, our lips never meet. We fuck. We don't kiss. And when did "making love" turn into "fucking," even in my own mind?
Orli has stopped shouting my name when he comes, too.
The little things are starting to add up, and I don't like it.
* * * * *
This morning, for some bizarre reason, Orli's call is earlier than mine. I lie in bed, listening to him putter around in the bathroom. He comes back into my bedroom and gets dressed while I watch lazily. I admire the little things -- the tight jeans fitting snugly over his fine arse, the way his stomach muscles tighten and relax as he pulls on a hideous green shirt, his long fingers deftly buttoning that shirt.
On impulse, I jump out of bed and kiss him neatly on the lips.
He gives me an odd look. "What was that for?"
I shrug. "Do I need a reason?"
Orli smiles bemusedly, shaking his head. "I need to finish dressing and get out of here." He looks pointedly at my lack of clothing.
It's never occurred to me to feel embarrassed about being naked in front of him before. I shift uncomfortably, then retreat to the bed.
He pulls on his shoes. "Ta," he calls, and breezes out of my room. A few moments later, I hear the front door slam shut.
I used to kiss him every morning before leaving the house. Has he forgotten that?
* * * * *
After filming ends for the day, we hobbits and Orli all go to our favorite Wellington pub. Come to think of it, we do this practically every day. Except for once a week, the night before our day off, when we usually seek out either a hot new pub or a club of some sort. But that's beside the point. Tomorrow is filming, so it's back to the usual spot tonight.
It's a nice, homey sort of place. It has big, comfortable booths which could easily seat the whole Fellowship -- and do, on occasion. There's always some kind of bland music playing in the background, but no dance floor or anything, and anyway we're not here for the music. We're here for the alcohol, which they serve in remarkable quantities for remarkably low prices.
Orli and I are sitting next to each other, but there's an awkward distance between us. It's my fault. I tried bringing up the morning kiss business earlier, and he just brushed me off, which was bloody irritating of him. So I said something appropriately rude in response. It's been going downhill from there.
Our hands brush accidentally, and we both jerk away from the contact. Billy and Sean are busy debating the merits of Budweiser vs. Guinness, but Elijah notices. He frowns thoughtfully.
"What?" I demand crossly.
Lij looks up at my face, favoring me with the blue intensity of his eyes. "Something wrong?"
I'm tempted to say exactly what's wrong, but then realize how dumb it would sound. "No," Orli says shortly, while I'm still pondering it.
Lij cocks his head, considering. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No!" we both say in unison. Too loudly. Billy and Sean stare at us, distracted from their discussion. Lij's bright eyes flick from me to Orli, and I can see the curiosity gleaming in them.
"It's nothing," Orli mutters, at the same time as I mumble "It's stupid."
My three fellow hobbits exchange glances.
Sean stands slowly. "It's getting late," he says. "I want to get home before Ally goes to bed." He smiles fondly, the picture of a doting father.
"I'll catch a ride with you," Billy says quickly, jumping up. "I'm on your route." Sean nods, and they slip away.
Elijah calmly sips his beer, avoiding my eyes. I silently plead with him to stay -- an attempt made difficult by the lack of eye contact.
He gets up casually. Well, fuck telepathy. "There's a movie on TV tonight that I want to catch," he says quietly. "I'll see you around, okay?"
Orli and I are left alone. It's ironic. We used to go out of our way to come up with excuses to be alone. Now I'm dreading it. My mind focuses on the little things -- the murky gold of my beer, the wood grains cutting patterns in the table, the vaguely American-sounding music drifting over the voices of other patrons.
Orli leans back, grinning awkwardly. "Guess we should've left earlier and saved them all the trouble."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Well," he says practically, "at least it showed us how fucking ridiculous we were acting."
"The fight was ridiculous," I agree cautiously. "I overreacted."
He snorts. "That's an understatement."
It's a battle to swallow back a nasty remark, and the beer isn't helping. I force a neutral tone into my voice. "I was just, ah, upset that you weren't taking me seriously."
"That's what happens when you blather on about nothing." He finishes up his beer in one gulp.
"It wasn't nothing," I insist angrily. "It--"
Orli interrupts me curtly. "Fuck, Sblomie, listen to yourself. You sound like a fucking girl." He shakes his head. "I thought I was shagging you to get away from all that crap."
I stand abruptly. "Funny," I say coldly. "I thought you were shagging me because you fancied me." My dramatic exit is ruined by the fact that I have to practically climb over him to get out of the booth.
He grabs my arm, his dark eyes glinting with anger. "You want me to kiss you? Fine, Dominic, I'll fucking kiss you." He yanks me down roughly, and more or less shoves his tongue into my mouth.
I jerk back, pushing him away. "Fuck off!"
"Yeah, fine," Orli mutters. He gets up, dropping some coins on the table, and shoves past me.
I glare at his retreating back, seething. I slam a few notes on the table to cover the rest of our tab, and stalk out of the pub.
I'm already in my car, tearing down the street, before I wonder where to go. Orli probably went to his house, and damned if I'm going to follow the bugger there. I could go home, but it's relatively early yet and the prospect of my empty house isn't very appealing.
Wellington flashes past me, illuminated by the occasional street lamp. I turn off onto a familiar road and follow it mindlessly. I'm practically in his driveway before I realize where I've come.
Elijah's house.
My feet crunch lightly in the gravel driveway. A cool breeze takes some of the angry heat out of my face. I can hear a TV blaring inside, and I hesitate before knocking. Maybe he was telling the truth about having a movie to watch. Maybe he doesn't want company.
I rap on the front door, harder than I mean to. The sound of the telly stops abruptly. I suddenly feel very foolish. I should've just gone home. What do I expect Lij to do, anyway? Express his sympathy that Orli and I fought? I'm a complete prat.
Lij pulls the door open. His small frown of irritation melts away when he sees me. "Dom?"
I tug at my ear, embarrassed. "Can I come in?" He nods wordlessly, and I push past him, ignoring the question in his wide eyes.
He shuts the door quietly, then turns back to face me. "What happened?"
I shrug, staring at the floor. "Nothing really. I don't know. Orli and I had a fight." Elijah has a rather nice floor, I decide. Smooth wood, even brown tones. A comfortable sort of floor, the kind that works just as well without a rug. You could walk across it in wet shoes without making much of a mess, and it would feel pleasant under bare feet.
"You want to talk about it yet?" Lij asks softly.
If I wanted to talk, I wouldn't be examining your floor in such detail, you stupid wanker. "Not really."
"Okay," he says. We just stand there silently for a minute. He touches my arm lightly, startling me into meeting his eyes. "Anything I can do to help?"
This is why I came to Elijah, wasn't it? Because even though he's normally a high-strung ball of nervous energy, he can be the most caring person in the world when you need a friend.
I smile crookedly at him. "I could use a beer, actually."
He laughs, and the serious expression in his eyes vanishes. "No problem." He leads me to the kitchen, and grabs two bottles out of the fridge. "Here." He passes one to me, and pops the other one open for himself.
"Anything good on the telly?" I ask, wandering into the living room.
Lij follows me. "Not much. I had a soccer -- er, football game on before you came in."
I mentally remind myself to collect ten quid from Billy. I once bet him that I could get Elijah hooked on football before filming ended. Seems like I won.
I plop down on the couch. "Sounds good to me."
He smiles and joins me, turning the TV on. We watch the match in companionable silence, leaning against each other on the couch and occasionally taking swigs of beer.
Yeah, I think comfortably, as Orli and the rest of the world slowly melt away. This is what I wanted.
* * * * *
It isn't the last time I'll end up at Elijah's house after a fight with Orli. Sure, the next day my boyfriend is all tender apologies, but I'm not daft enough to think that's the end of it. And even mind-blowingly good sex doesn't solve everything.
As time passes, part of the problem is the shooting schedule. The hobbits have been split up for a few weeks now, and it's starting to take its toll on me. It's hard to be away from them all day every day. It was bad enough when Elijah and Sean started filming Emyn Muil and Mordor, but now I've been separated from Billy, too. And the shoots have gotten longer, often leaving us too exhausted to visit the pub.
All this means that I value my time with the other hobbits more, and I'm beginning to resent the fact that Orli pulls me away from them.
"Am I that boring?" Orli demands, glaring at me. We just opened a bottle of wine, sitting at my kitchen table, but I'm having trouble listening to what he's been saying.
"No," I reply. He just looks at me, tapping his finger on the rim of his glass. I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't seen Lij and Billy in a few days, and I'm wondering how they're doing. They've got some rough shoots, if the call sheets are any indication."
"So do I," he says bluntly. "You think Helm's Deep is my idea of fun?"
I shrug. "Well, your nighttime shooting ended, anyway. You're not doing battle sequences anymore, are you?"
"All Legolas HAS are battle sequences." His voice is bitter. "Archery. That's all I'm good for. They could've cast a professional fucking archer with no drama school credits, and no one would know the difference. Save the time it took to train me, too."
I wince. Orli only indulges in self-pity when he's in a really foul mood. "Hey, this is going to be your big break, and you know it."
He snorts derisively in response.
"Come on," I say with a smile, taking his hand, trying to work him into a better mood, "you know that these films are going to be huge successes. And you stand out. You're amazing as Legolas. You're going to become a celebrity overnight." He raises an eyebrow, but I can see the beginnings of a smile. "It happens," I insist. "Lij was telling me the other day--"
And his face darkens. He pulls his hand away and scowls into his wine. "And we're back to Lij again, aren't we? Always something about Elijah."
"That's not fair--"
"No, you're right, occasionally you put in a good word for Billy or Sean, too."
I cross my arms, exasperated. "They're my fucking mates, Orli! Yours, too."
"You'd rather be with them than with me," he accuses. "Admit it. You wish we were tossing back a few pints with Doodle and Bill right now."
"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, rejecting the truth in his words. "Who's acting like the girl this time?"
We're both on our feet now, wine forgotten. "Who's the one who goes crying to Elijah every time we have an argument?"
My ears burn. "I don't cry and you bloody well know it!"
"Oh, sorry," Orli sneers. "Mr. Wood comforts you in other ways, does he? Tell me, does he live up to the name?"
I shove him. Hard.
He stumbles backward, slamming into a wall. "Touch me again and I'll fucking kill you," he hisses, once he's regained his balance. He rubs the base of his neck, wincing.
"Oh, fuck," I say guiltily. "Your back. I completely forgot. I'm sorry, Orli..." I take a step toward him, reaching out a hand, but he recoils from my touch.
"I said don't touch me," he mutters. "I'm getting the hell out of here."
He walks out, a little stiffly, refusing to even look at me.
I slump back into my chair, resisting the urge to run after him. And I will not go crying to Lij. I will not.
After finishing the bottle of wine, I make a conscious decision to forget that resolve. I don't bother with a car, but instead half-walk, half-jog the distance to Lij's house. The cool air dries the few tears that leak out of my eyes, and the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the pavement soothes me. A little.
Elijah takes longer than usual to answer the door. When he does, he's wearing just boxers and an overlarge T-shirt, and his hair is sticking out every which way.
"I'm sorry," I say. "Did I wake you?"
He runs a hand through his tousled hair, looking exhausted. "Not really. It's all right."
"Sorry," I say again. "What time is it?"
He glances at his wristwatch. "Not very late," he admits. "But I was really drained from filming, and I figured I'd go to bed early."
"Look, I shouldn't -- I can go." I start backing up guiltily, but I forget about the stairs leading up to his door and have to grab the handrail to keep from falling.
He reaches out and pulls me inside. "Are you drunk?" he asks, frowning a little. "Where's your car?"
I lean against the wall as he closes the door. "Not drunk enough, and I walked."
"You walked?" he asks incredulously. "Jesus, you ARE drunk."
I shrug. He's hardly one to talk about getting pissed, the bloody lightweight. "It's not that far."
"At this time of night?" He shakes his head, sighing. "All right, so what happened?"
"I pushed him into a wall," I mutter. "I shouldn't have. It was my fault. I overreacted."
He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "Overreacted to what?" he asks curiously, sitting and pulling me down beside him.
I rub my ear, hoping that Lij is too tired to notice my blush. "I'd rather not say."
He looks at my face searchingly, then sighs. "Anything I can do to help?"
"I don't know. No." I stare at the floor. It looks the same as it always does. "I should stop coming here after every stupid little row. You must think I'm such a child."
The ghost of a smile passes over his lips. "Hey, I'm the little kid here, remember?"
I don't respond and he leans back into the cushions, little lines of tension on his face easing slightly. His voice sounds hoarser than usual, and there's a small frown in his forehead that I don't remember seeing before. I notice his shoulders relaxing a little, sinking into the couch, and I feel guilty again. He looks completely knackered.
"Rough day?" I ask quietly.
Elijah turns his head to look at me, forcing a smile. "Just draining. Mordor. I don't mind physically demanding scenes -- they leave you exhausted in a healthy kind of way, y'know?" I nod. "But emotionally demanding ones, take after take, for eight or nine hours straight... I don't know. I just feel a little shell-shocked, I guess." He examines a fingernail, then decides against it. His hand flops back onto the couch.
"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I shouldn't have come."
His smile doesn't look so forced this time. "It's okay." He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I don't mind."
I smile back. We sit quietly for a few long minutes. Lij is barely staying awake, and now that I'm just sitting here, I realize that I'm pretty tired, too.
Eventually, Elijah stands up. "You can crash here tonight," he says softly. "I'll find you a blanket."
The aftereffects of the wine and the drain of my fight with Orli are making it increasingly difficult for me to keep my eyes open. I nod agreeably, kicking off my shoes and lying full-length on the couch.
I'm practically asleep by the time he returns with the blanket. "Thanks," I mumble.
"You're welcome." He turns to go.
"Lij?"
He looks back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Y'know I love you, right?"
Lij just smiles. "Go to sleep," he advises. "Sean picks us up at 4:30."
* * * * *
The very next evening, Orli pops over to pick up his things. We both say nasty things we don't really mean, and when I look at his face, I wonder what happened to the funny, charming boy I loved. As soon as his car pulls away, I'm in my own car, making a beeline to Elijah's place.
The house is dark, and after five minutes of waiting in the chilly night air, it's obvious that he's not home. I consider looking for him at the pub -- but I know Orli well enough to realize that he would go straight to that pub to get roaring drunk, and I have no desire to bump into him by accident while looking for Lij.
Back at home, alone, I drink myself into a stupor. I think about Orli's finely toned body, his warm brown eyes, his shyest smile and his widest grin. Then I remember the cold look in those chocolate eyes, the accusing glares and angry snubs. I never once told him I loved him. I'd thought it a few times, but the words never came out. Just as well, I suppose.
I don't shed a single tear.
END PART 1/4
The fic formerly known as, alternately, the Fic From Hell (TM) and Fic From Heck (on better days). ::inhales. exhales:: Okeedokee, here we go.
Title: Little Things - Ending (1/4)
Author: kaydee falls (OneRingDoodle@aol.com)
Pairing: DM/OB, mild DM/EW
Rating: R
Summary: Two pretty boys having sex -- what could go wrong? Well...
Archive: TAKE IT. PLEASE... just tell me where
Feedback: is to kaydee as water is to flowers
Disclaimer: none of this happened. i don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: I'm freely messing around with NZ living arrangements here. Let's assume that our boys each have their own house, shall we? Thank yous to Tash for preliminary read-over and Gabby (as always) for the wonderful beta.
I notice the little things first.
Orli and I used to be almost shy about sex. We would always ask first. Even in moments of passion, one of us would pause, pull back, ask "Is this all right with you?" with ragged breath. It always was, of course, but the question was still asked.
We never ask anymore.
Maybe it should thrill me that the question has become unnecessary. But I wonder, instead. Why don't we bother asking? Why do we just assume it will be all right?
If that was the only difference, I would shrug it off. But there are other small changes.
We always fuck from behind, now. In the early days of our relationship, we experimented, trying out a wide variety of different positions. "I want to be able to see your eyes, Sblomie," Orli said once.
Orli hasn't seen my eyes during sex in weeks.
And another thing. We don't really kiss anymore. Not that we've ever been too demonstrative in public, but now we rarely even give each other pecks on the cheek. And at night, in bed, our lips never meet. We fuck. We don't kiss. And when did "making love" turn into "fucking," even in my own mind?
Orli has stopped shouting my name when he comes, too.
The little things are starting to add up, and I don't like it.
* * * * *
This morning, for some bizarre reason, Orli's call is earlier than mine. I lie in bed, listening to him putter around in the bathroom. He comes back into my bedroom and gets dressed while I watch lazily. I admire the little things -- the tight jeans fitting snugly over his fine arse, the way his stomach muscles tighten and relax as he pulls on a hideous green shirt, his long fingers deftly buttoning that shirt.
On impulse, I jump out of bed and kiss him neatly on the lips.
He gives me an odd look. "What was that for?"
I shrug. "Do I need a reason?"
Orli smiles bemusedly, shaking his head. "I need to finish dressing and get out of here." He looks pointedly at my lack of clothing.
It's never occurred to me to feel embarrassed about being naked in front of him before. I shift uncomfortably, then retreat to the bed.
He pulls on his shoes. "Ta," he calls, and breezes out of my room. A few moments later, I hear the front door slam shut.
I used to kiss him every morning before leaving the house. Has he forgotten that?
* * * * *
After filming ends for the day, we hobbits and Orli all go to our favorite Wellington pub. Come to think of it, we do this practically every day. Except for once a week, the night before our day off, when we usually seek out either a hot new pub or a club of some sort. But that's beside the point. Tomorrow is filming, so it's back to the usual spot tonight.
It's a nice, homey sort of place. It has big, comfortable booths which could easily seat the whole Fellowship -- and do, on occasion. There's always some kind of bland music playing in the background, but no dance floor or anything, and anyway we're not here for the music. We're here for the alcohol, which they serve in remarkable quantities for remarkably low prices.
Orli and I are sitting next to each other, but there's an awkward distance between us. It's my fault. I tried bringing up the morning kiss business earlier, and he just brushed me off, which was bloody irritating of him. So I said something appropriately rude in response. It's been going downhill from there.
Our hands brush accidentally, and we both jerk away from the contact. Billy and Sean are busy debating the merits of Budweiser vs. Guinness, but Elijah notices. He frowns thoughtfully.
"What?" I demand crossly.
Lij looks up at my face, favoring me with the blue intensity of his eyes. "Something wrong?"
I'm tempted to say exactly what's wrong, but then realize how dumb it would sound. "No," Orli says shortly, while I'm still pondering it.
Lij cocks his head, considering. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No!" we both say in unison. Too loudly. Billy and Sean stare at us, distracted from their discussion. Lij's bright eyes flick from me to Orli, and I can see the curiosity gleaming in them.
"It's nothing," Orli mutters, at the same time as I mumble "It's stupid."
My three fellow hobbits exchange glances.
Sean stands slowly. "It's getting late," he says. "I want to get home before Ally goes to bed." He smiles fondly, the picture of a doting father.
"I'll catch a ride with you," Billy says quickly, jumping up. "I'm on your route." Sean nods, and they slip away.
Elijah calmly sips his beer, avoiding my eyes. I silently plead with him to stay -- an attempt made difficult by the lack of eye contact.
He gets up casually. Well, fuck telepathy. "There's a movie on TV tonight that I want to catch," he says quietly. "I'll see you around, okay?"
Orli and I are left alone. It's ironic. We used to go out of our way to come up with excuses to be alone. Now I'm dreading it. My mind focuses on the little things -- the murky gold of my beer, the wood grains cutting patterns in the table, the vaguely American-sounding music drifting over the voices of other patrons.
Orli leans back, grinning awkwardly. "Guess we should've left earlier and saved them all the trouble."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Well," he says practically, "at least it showed us how fucking ridiculous we were acting."
"The fight was ridiculous," I agree cautiously. "I overreacted."
He snorts. "That's an understatement."
It's a battle to swallow back a nasty remark, and the beer isn't helping. I force a neutral tone into my voice. "I was just, ah, upset that you weren't taking me seriously."
"That's what happens when you blather on about nothing." He finishes up his beer in one gulp.
"It wasn't nothing," I insist angrily. "It--"
Orli interrupts me curtly. "Fuck, Sblomie, listen to yourself. You sound like a fucking girl." He shakes his head. "I thought I was shagging you to get away from all that crap."
I stand abruptly. "Funny," I say coldly. "I thought you were shagging me because you fancied me." My dramatic exit is ruined by the fact that I have to practically climb over him to get out of the booth.
He grabs my arm, his dark eyes glinting with anger. "You want me to kiss you? Fine, Dominic, I'll fucking kiss you." He yanks me down roughly, and more or less shoves his tongue into my mouth.
I jerk back, pushing him away. "Fuck off!"
"Yeah, fine," Orli mutters. He gets up, dropping some coins on the table, and shoves past me.
I glare at his retreating back, seething. I slam a few notes on the table to cover the rest of our tab, and stalk out of the pub.
I'm already in my car, tearing down the street, before I wonder where to go. Orli probably went to his house, and damned if I'm going to follow the bugger there. I could go home, but it's relatively early yet and the prospect of my empty house isn't very appealing.
Wellington flashes past me, illuminated by the occasional street lamp. I turn off onto a familiar road and follow it mindlessly. I'm practically in his driveway before I realize where I've come.
Elijah's house.
My feet crunch lightly in the gravel driveway. A cool breeze takes some of the angry heat out of my face. I can hear a TV blaring inside, and I hesitate before knocking. Maybe he was telling the truth about having a movie to watch. Maybe he doesn't want company.
I rap on the front door, harder than I mean to. The sound of the telly stops abruptly. I suddenly feel very foolish. I should've just gone home. What do I expect Lij to do, anyway? Express his sympathy that Orli and I fought? I'm a complete prat.
Lij pulls the door open. His small frown of irritation melts away when he sees me. "Dom?"
I tug at my ear, embarrassed. "Can I come in?" He nods wordlessly, and I push past him, ignoring the question in his wide eyes.
He shuts the door quietly, then turns back to face me. "What happened?"
I shrug, staring at the floor. "Nothing really. I don't know. Orli and I had a fight." Elijah has a rather nice floor, I decide. Smooth wood, even brown tones. A comfortable sort of floor, the kind that works just as well without a rug. You could walk across it in wet shoes without making much of a mess, and it would feel pleasant under bare feet.
"You want to talk about it yet?" Lij asks softly.
If I wanted to talk, I wouldn't be examining your floor in such detail, you stupid wanker. "Not really."
"Okay," he says. We just stand there silently for a minute. He touches my arm lightly, startling me into meeting his eyes. "Anything I can do to help?"
This is why I came to Elijah, wasn't it? Because even though he's normally a high-strung ball of nervous energy, he can be the most caring person in the world when you need a friend.
I smile crookedly at him. "I could use a beer, actually."
He laughs, and the serious expression in his eyes vanishes. "No problem." He leads me to the kitchen, and grabs two bottles out of the fridge. "Here." He passes one to me, and pops the other one open for himself.
"Anything good on the telly?" I ask, wandering into the living room.
Lij follows me. "Not much. I had a soccer -- er, football game on before you came in."
I mentally remind myself to collect ten quid from Billy. I once bet him that I could get Elijah hooked on football before filming ended. Seems like I won.
I plop down on the couch. "Sounds good to me."
He smiles and joins me, turning the TV on. We watch the match in companionable silence, leaning against each other on the couch and occasionally taking swigs of beer.
Yeah, I think comfortably, as Orli and the rest of the world slowly melt away. This is what I wanted.
* * * * *
It isn't the last time I'll end up at Elijah's house after a fight with Orli. Sure, the next day my boyfriend is all tender apologies, but I'm not daft enough to think that's the end of it. And even mind-blowingly good sex doesn't solve everything.
As time passes, part of the problem is the shooting schedule. The hobbits have been split up for a few weeks now, and it's starting to take its toll on me. It's hard to be away from them all day every day. It was bad enough when Elijah and Sean started filming Emyn Muil and Mordor, but now I've been separated from Billy, too. And the shoots have gotten longer, often leaving us too exhausted to visit the pub.
All this means that I value my time with the other hobbits more, and I'm beginning to resent the fact that Orli pulls me away from them.
"Am I that boring?" Orli demands, glaring at me. We just opened a bottle of wine, sitting at my kitchen table, but I'm having trouble listening to what he's been saying.
"No," I reply. He just looks at me, tapping his finger on the rim of his glass. I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't seen Lij and Billy in a few days, and I'm wondering how they're doing. They've got some rough shoots, if the call sheets are any indication."
"So do I," he says bluntly. "You think Helm's Deep is my idea of fun?"
I shrug. "Well, your nighttime shooting ended, anyway. You're not doing battle sequences anymore, are you?"
"All Legolas HAS are battle sequences." His voice is bitter. "Archery. That's all I'm good for. They could've cast a professional fucking archer with no drama school credits, and no one would know the difference. Save the time it took to train me, too."
I wince. Orli only indulges in self-pity when he's in a really foul mood. "Hey, this is going to be your big break, and you know it."
He snorts derisively in response.
"Come on," I say with a smile, taking his hand, trying to work him into a better mood, "you know that these films are going to be huge successes. And you stand out. You're amazing as Legolas. You're going to become a celebrity overnight." He raises an eyebrow, but I can see the beginnings of a smile. "It happens," I insist. "Lij was telling me the other day--"
And his face darkens. He pulls his hand away and scowls into his wine. "And we're back to Lij again, aren't we? Always something about Elijah."
"That's not fair--"
"No, you're right, occasionally you put in a good word for Billy or Sean, too."
I cross my arms, exasperated. "They're my fucking mates, Orli! Yours, too."
"You'd rather be with them than with me," he accuses. "Admit it. You wish we were tossing back a few pints with Doodle and Bill right now."
"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, rejecting the truth in his words. "Who's acting like the girl this time?"
We're both on our feet now, wine forgotten. "Who's the one who goes crying to Elijah every time we have an argument?"
My ears burn. "I don't cry and you bloody well know it!"
"Oh, sorry," Orli sneers. "Mr. Wood comforts you in other ways, does he? Tell me, does he live up to the name?"
I shove him. Hard.
He stumbles backward, slamming into a wall. "Touch me again and I'll fucking kill you," he hisses, once he's regained his balance. He rubs the base of his neck, wincing.
"Oh, fuck," I say guiltily. "Your back. I completely forgot. I'm sorry, Orli..." I take a step toward him, reaching out a hand, but he recoils from my touch.
"I said don't touch me," he mutters. "I'm getting the hell out of here."
He walks out, a little stiffly, refusing to even look at me.
I slump back into my chair, resisting the urge to run after him. And I will not go crying to Lij. I will not.
After finishing the bottle of wine, I make a conscious decision to forget that resolve. I don't bother with a car, but instead half-walk, half-jog the distance to Lij's house. The cool air dries the few tears that leak out of my eyes, and the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the pavement soothes me. A little.
Elijah takes longer than usual to answer the door. When he does, he's wearing just boxers and an overlarge T-shirt, and his hair is sticking out every which way.
"I'm sorry," I say. "Did I wake you?"
He runs a hand through his tousled hair, looking exhausted. "Not really. It's all right."
"Sorry," I say again. "What time is it?"
He glances at his wristwatch. "Not very late," he admits. "But I was really drained from filming, and I figured I'd go to bed early."
"Look, I shouldn't -- I can go." I start backing up guiltily, but I forget about the stairs leading up to his door and have to grab the handrail to keep from falling.
He reaches out and pulls me inside. "Are you drunk?" he asks, frowning a little. "Where's your car?"
I lean against the wall as he closes the door. "Not drunk enough, and I walked."
"You walked?" he asks incredulously. "Jesus, you ARE drunk."
I shrug. He's hardly one to talk about getting pissed, the bloody lightweight. "It's not that far."
"At this time of night?" He shakes his head, sighing. "All right, so what happened?"
"I pushed him into a wall," I mutter. "I shouldn't have. It was my fault. I overreacted."
He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "Overreacted to what?" he asks curiously, sitting and pulling me down beside him.
I rub my ear, hoping that Lij is too tired to notice my blush. "I'd rather not say."
He looks at my face searchingly, then sighs. "Anything I can do to help?"
"I don't know. No." I stare at the floor. It looks the same as it always does. "I should stop coming here after every stupid little row. You must think I'm such a child."
The ghost of a smile passes over his lips. "Hey, I'm the little kid here, remember?"
I don't respond and he leans back into the cushions, little lines of tension on his face easing slightly. His voice sounds hoarser than usual, and there's a small frown in his forehead that I don't remember seeing before. I notice his shoulders relaxing a little, sinking into the couch, and I feel guilty again. He looks completely knackered.
"Rough day?" I ask quietly.
Elijah turns his head to look at me, forcing a smile. "Just draining. Mordor. I don't mind physically demanding scenes -- they leave you exhausted in a healthy kind of way, y'know?" I nod. "But emotionally demanding ones, take after take, for eight or nine hours straight... I don't know. I just feel a little shell-shocked, I guess." He examines a fingernail, then decides against it. His hand flops back onto the couch.
"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I shouldn't have come."
His smile doesn't look so forced this time. "It's okay." He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I don't mind."
I smile back. We sit quietly for a few long minutes. Lij is barely staying awake, and now that I'm just sitting here, I realize that I'm pretty tired, too.
Eventually, Elijah stands up. "You can crash here tonight," he says softly. "I'll find you a blanket."
The aftereffects of the wine and the drain of my fight with Orli are making it increasingly difficult for me to keep my eyes open. I nod agreeably, kicking off my shoes and lying full-length on the couch.
I'm practically asleep by the time he returns with the blanket. "Thanks," I mumble.
"You're welcome." He turns to go.
"Lij?"
He looks back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Y'know I love you, right?"
Lij just smiles. "Go to sleep," he advises. "Sean picks us up at 4:30."
* * * * *
The very next evening, Orli pops over to pick up his things. We both say nasty things we don't really mean, and when I look at his face, I wonder what happened to the funny, charming boy I loved. As soon as his car pulls away, I'm in my own car, making a beeline to Elijah's place.
The house is dark, and after five minutes of waiting in the chilly night air, it's obvious that he's not home. I consider looking for him at the pub -- but I know Orli well enough to realize that he would go straight to that pub to get roaring drunk, and I have no desire to bump into him by accident while looking for Lij.
Back at home, alone, I drink myself into a stupor. I think about Orli's finely toned body, his warm brown eyes, his shyest smile and his widest grin. Then I remember the cold look in those chocolate eyes, the accusing glares and angry snubs. I never once told him I loved him. I'd thought it a few times, but the words never came out. Just as well, I suppose.
I don't shed a single tear.
END PART 1/4
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Date: 2002-08-22 06:42 am (UTC)Still curious about why their relationship soured like that. Do you touch upon that on the later chapters or is it all just the inevitable end of a relationship that was never meant to last?
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Date: 2002-08-22 04:24 pm (UTC)Hey! She was busy obsessing over Orli/Lij when I started reading Domlijah. So neener.
Still curious about why their relationship soured like that.
Give me time.
Thanks for responding...
no subject
Date: 2002-08-22 08:57 pm (UTC)ooooh, I like Evil!Orli. When I first glanced at it and saw that Orli was being mean to Dom I was like, But Orli is my little fluffy baby and he's really a nice boy, just like his mother always said! But as soon as he made that crack about "Mr. Wood"'s name... I was like, heh heh heh, Evil!Orli is good. He's like Brandy Took. He's so much fun.
and Elijah's cute. especially when people insult him behind his back.
heh.
um, anyway...
*scurries off to read Part 2*
no subject
Date: 2002-08-22 08:58 pm (UTC)