The truth can now be told - unveiling of the Slashy Valentines writers
So - here it is, my friends. My very own RPS, the first I ever wrote, the next step on that slashy slippery slope.
I know a lot of my friends like Orlijah, so I hope it measures up...
Making the Bed
Author: Aprilkat
Recipient: Airlia Vega
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Slash, schmoop with a bit of angst
A/N: Written for the 2006 slashyvalentine secret exchange
Disclaimer: This story is a fictional product of its author's imagination and does not represent any actual opinions or events.
Elijah sighed, leaning perilously over the deck ledge and letting the ocean breeze carry away another exhalation of smoke into the vast darkness. The hair on his forehead lifted in the pleasantly warm wind, and he shook it impatiently out of his eyes as he tilted his head back to gulp down the last of the beer. Setting down the bottle, he flipped his cigarette over the side and watched it leave an arc of sparks in the inky night. Bad boy, he thought with ironic satisfaction; ooh, dangerous.
The next minute he felt Billy’s arm around his shoulder and Billy’s voice saying, “Elijah, why don’t you take it easy for the rest of the evening? You know we have an early call tomorrow.”
Elijah squinted at Billy and said somewhat coldly, “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.”
“Well, then, I think it’s time for tired little hobbits to head on to bed. Why don’t you just use the spare room tonight, and I’ll leave a message that the car can pick you up here.”
“Nah, I think I’ll head on home. A walk would do me good.” Smiling apologetically at Billy (don’t be rude to the host), Elijah continued, “It was a nice party, Billy. I’m just kinda out of it.”
As they turned to enter the hot living room pulsing and thumping from the pumped-up speakers, Elijah asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So, did we ever hear from the elf?”
“No, bugger stood us up. I did call his house earlier, but the line was busy.”
Elijah shrugged, waved at Dom and the other dancers who were slamming into and bouncing off of each other, and made his way to the front door. He could see Billy looking at him speculatively, and mouthed “See you in Feet!”
He was halfway down the walk when he heard, “Elijah!” He turned to see a small plastic sack sailing toward him and caught it reflexively. It was full of little tin hearts.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Billy smiled, before shutting the door behind him.
* * * * * * * *
As Elijah strolled in the balmy Wellington evening, he marveled how much the weather felt like L.A. this time of year, despite the reversed seasons. Soon they would be sliding into autumn and then winter, and then they would be back to September. Elijah felt a wave of melancholy that astounded him. They were only one-third of the way through the shooting; why did he have this feeling that everything was coming to an end too soon?
Maybe having just come back from visiting his family for Christmas had put him in this weird mood. Although he had been a bit homesick for his family the first four months he’d been in New Zealand, going home for a holiday had made him feel out of place and disjointed. After being independent for the first time in his life, going back to stay with his mom and sister had made him feel a little suffocated. He hadn’t realized until he’d moved to Wellington how much of the time he had been under someone’s careful eye growing up. His mom had always been on set with him, and while she had probably kept him from doing some pretty stupid things, she’d also kept him from doing a lot of things other kids just took for granted. Here, while he was respected for his professionalism at work, for the first time in his life he was able to just cut loose and play with a group of friends as an equal.
Maybe that was why he was so moody - the idea of leaving behind these guys was enough to make anyone dread the future. They shared everything and talked about everything. Orlando was especially open; he never knew a stranger and assumed everyone was his friend. He lived life at top speed, enthusiastically throwing himself off bridges and out of airplanes, screaming joyfully at the top of his lungs, beautiful and uninhibited - and straight.
Elijah scuffed his sneakers on the concrete with a snort. Fucking Orlando. Since they’d first arrived, Orli had become one of the important people in Elijah’s life to the point that he couldn’t imagine doing without him . They’d laughed and gotten drunk together, surfed, played music, and spun out fantastic dreams for the future. Elijah was pleased to be able to wise Orli up about some realities of the business; truly, sometimes Orli was so thrilled about everything that he just seemed naïve. And the admiration that Orli felt for Elijah’s talent and status in his career was so obviously sincere that it bordered on the way Elijah felt about Cate Blanchett or Ian McKellen; it was really quite gratifying. For his part, Elijah could see Orli eagerly learning about his craft from everyone around him every day. It worried Elijah a little that Orli seemed to walk around with his heart exposed to the world; someday the world was going to give in to the temptation to rip it out.
Unless, of course, Orlando’s girlfriend didn’t rip it out first. Orlando often confided in Elijah about the woman back home in England, sharing their ups and downs, and there were many. Elijah secretly felt she was a right wench and couldn’t understand why Orlando let her treat him the way she did. If Elijah were with a great guy like Orli, he wouldn’t subject him to long arguments that would leave Orli depressed and withdrawn; he would appreciate the fact that he was with a man who was so compassionate and considerate. She blew hot and cold on Orlando, sometimes so sweet that he wanted to jump on the next plane to propose, sometimes so harsh that he feared to speak with her. What a lot of crap. In fact, Elijah knew that Orlando had planned to call her before the party tonight in order to wish her an early Valentine’s Day. He’d probably gotten all involved in schmoopy small talk for hours and forgotten that his best buds were throwing a fabulous party.
Elijah smiled to himself and fingered the hearts through the plastic bag. Ha, payback was a bitch. Two weeks ago Orlando had sneaked into Elijah’s house while Elijah lay sleeping and left his bedroom full of confetti and birthday banners. Tonight Elijah would sneak into Orli’s house, sprinkle the sentimental sap with little red hearts, and sneak back out again. Of course Orli would guess right away who’d done it when he awoke, but this was the type of innocent attention that he’d enjoy.
* * * * * * *
As he carefully let himself in the front door, Elijah vaguely remembered another night of revelry where he’d helped Orli into the house; Orli had turned to him, placed the key in his hand, and closing Elijah’s fingers over the key said solemnly, “Mate, if we keep making a habit of this, you might as well have one. Next time I might not be conscious enough to find it.” Elijah had felt enormously honored at the time and formally bowed to his friend, trying to stifle his giggles. Then looping their arms around each others’ shoulders, they had ricocheted down the hallway, Orli dumping Elijah on the couch as he continued his rambling path onward to his bedroom. It had felt like a sort of homecoming to Elijah for some reason, and he’d fallen asleep immediately.
Now he crept silently toward the dark bedroom, where the door stood partly ajar. He hesitated, realizing that the dim hallway light would silhouette his figure. Then he heard a strange low wailing noise that lifted the hair on the back of his neck. He heedlessly pushed the door open further and whispered, “Orli?”
In the unlighted room he could make out a figure on the bed sitting with its back against the wall. It gestured in a way that said “Come in,” so Elijah moved toward the bed, wondering if he should turn on the light or trust to the hall light. His foot struck an object which he could tell from the clinking was a bottle - several bottles, actually. Wading carefully through the surf of glass, he made his way to the side of the bed.
“Orli?” he repeated, when there was no further response from the figure. “What’s the matter, man?”
Orli turned his face toward Elijah, who was shocked in the streetlight glimmer from the window to see a face so distorted and changed from any expression he’d ever seen there that he doubted its identity for a moment.
“Shit!” Elijah whispered. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
He could now see that Orli’s face was not really changed, but twisted in the agony of trying to hold back sobs. There were tracks of tears down his face that trailed down his neck and onto his bare chest, gleaming eerily silver in the half-light. He was clad only in a pair of sweat pants, and Elijah could see his whole body trembling slightly.
Moving swiftly, Elijah scooped one edge of the blanket over Orli and settled next to him to pull him into his arms. Rubbing his hands over the chilly arms, Elijah murmured, “It’s OK, Orli. Whatever it is. We’ll make it OK.”
Orli let out a strangled cry at that and turned his body to bury his head on Elijah’s shoulder. Heaving and choking, he let himself go and cried unrestrainedly. Elijah held him tighter and kept muttering nonsensical comfort into his ear.
Finally Orli pushed himself away and settled against the pillow behind him. He hiccupped slightly as he regained his breath and got back his composure, then took a swig from a bottle he had clutched in his hand the whole time.
Elijah sat still, not speaking, his arms still held loosely around his friend. Orli sighed, tossed the bottle to the floor, then turned toward Elijah.
“Sorry, man. I had a phone call tonight. She dumped me. End of story. I’ll survive.”
“Shit, that’s, just - shit.”
Orli snorted, then slurred, “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. You know the drill - long distance, new interests, we can always stay friends, blahblahblah.”
Aware he was still clinging to Orli, Elijah started to move away, but was pinioned by Orli’s leanly muscled arms. Orli mumbled, “Don’t go. I’ve been sitting here drinking all by myself, feeling like it was the end of the world. It’s nice to know there’s someone else around.”
Elijah tried to relax, but he couldn’t help being aware of Orlando, all that skin touching him (directly touching the skin on his arms), pressing down the whole length of his own body. Orlando put his head back on Elijah’s shoulder, shifting down so that his left leg lay over Elijah.
As they lay there, many things began to come together for Elijah. The most overriding sense was that of the unfairness of it all. Elijah had managed to keep from himself how deeply he cared for Orlando except as a good friend, but all barriers were down now. He bitterly wondered how he could go back to the old way of acting freely around his friend, since now there would be a double awareness of every touch, every cuddle and punch - the outward friendliness and the inward yearning for something that Orlando would not be feeling with him.
Some friend you are, he scoffed to himself. The guy’s heart is broken, and instead of empathizing, you’re just full of how he makes you feel all squishy inside. Get over yourself, asshole.
He decided to let Orlando speak first and then follow his lead to provide whatever Orlando needed to make him feel better. But Orlando never spoke. They lay entwined and silent, the clock dropping ticks into the room like water dripping in Gollum’s cave.
At last, wondering if Orlando had gone to sleep or passed out, Elijah gently stroked his hand over Orlando’s cheek. His heart contracted at the feel of warm dampness and then clenched as Orlando’s hand came up over his. Far from rejecting the caress, however, Orlando squeezed Elijah’s hand and then slowly moved it to his lips. There was a rush of hot air, then Elijah felt the softest touch on the back of his hand and then in the palm. Almost hypnotized, Elijah let Orlando drag his hand back over Orlando’s cheek, his oversensitized fingers tingling with the conflicting sensations of bristly stubble and satin sleekness. Then their hands slipped down the curve of Orlando’s neck, descending over the muscled curve of Orlando’s chest…
As Elijah gasped, electrified, Orlando gently swallowed down Elijah’s breath with a deep, drowning kiss. All thought seared from him, Elijah gave in to the kiss and let it carry him where it would.
* * * * * * *
“Hey, Elijah! Snap out of it! It’s show time!” said Dom, clicking his fingers together under Elijah’s nose.
“Oh, sorry, I’m just exhausted,” Elijah replied, yawning loudly to prove his point.
He noticed the other hobbits had gathered their belongings and were heading for the door, fully wigged and footed. Billy looked back at him with a strange expression. In order to head off whatever he was going to say, Elijah continued quickly, “You were right, Billy. I should have stayed at your place last night. I didn’t get a bit of sleep after I got home anyway.”
Suddenly the door to the trailer opened, and Legolas bounded in, all clear-eyed and pristine Elijah noted sourly. But it was Orlando’s voice saying excitedly, “Hey, before we all go our separate ways, are we still on for the pub tonight?”
“Yeah, see you at 9:00,” Dom said, as they trooped down the steps of the trailer, leaving Orlando alone with Elijah.
Elijah kept his face impassive but friendly, waiting to see how Orlando was going to play this. He’d been through so many dissonant feelings over the past few hours that he had no strength to even know how he wanted Orlando to react. After Orlando had fallen asleep, Elijah had slipped quietly out of the bed and run all the way home. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Orlando’s eyes once he awoke and remembered what they’d done - if he remembered. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to be found at Orlando’s house having missed his own early ride to the studio. He had spent the early morning hours turning over how he should handle the next meeting with Orlando. Elijah knew what he wanted, but he figured that was only “a fool’s hope” at best.
Elijah’s mouth twitched at the thought, and Orlando, as if released by the smile, beamed all over his face. Elijah groaned inwardly and thought, okay, it’s “forget our little drunken binge, no harm, no foul, we’re the same good buddies we’ve always been...” And added to himself, I made the bed, I have to lie in it.
Orlando walked over to Elijah, dropped an envelope in his lap, and walked back to the door without saying a word. Startled, Elijah picked it up and pulled out a piece of paper releasing a shower of little red hearts. Fucking shit, he thought, his face flaming, I forgot all about that stupid package and left it there. He must think I’m the lamest…
He stared down at the sketch in his hand. A roughly-drawn elf figure was holding out his hand to an obvious hobbit. In his hand was a heart and underneath was written, “Will you be My Valentine?”
Biting his lip, he looked up in disbelief at the man waiting in tense expectation by the door.
Elijah looked up at him and nodded, speechlessly.
“Right. Pick you up at 7:00? Good!” said Orli; after he disappeared through the door Elijah could hear him whooping all the way across the lot.
Oh for Christ’s sake, I cannot believe he just did that, thought Elijah. I cannot believe I just did that. We have lost our cool creds forever. But he couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
End.
Feedback would be vastly appreciated, as always.
Also, I am so very thrilled that the story written for me, which made me so happy last week due to its hotness and David/Elijahness (Sunburn) was written by my own beloved trianne. How lucky was I in this exchange?! (Hee, she didn't do so badly herself - by an odd set of circumstances she ended up with THREE fics dedicated to her. Couldn't happen to a nicer person!)
For the full list of 2006 Slashy Valentine fics, go here. Many lovely LOTRiPS boys to be found! Major kudos to azrhiaz for coordinating and putting up this challenge!
I know a lot of my friends like Orlijah, so I hope it measures up...
Making the Bed
Author: Aprilkat
Recipient: Airlia Vega
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Slash, schmoop with a bit of angst
A/N: Written for the 2006 slashyvalentine secret exchange
Disclaimer: This story is a fictional product of its author's imagination and does not represent any actual opinions or events.
Elijah sighed, leaning perilously over the deck ledge and letting the ocean breeze carry away another exhalation of smoke into the vast darkness. The hair on his forehead lifted in the pleasantly warm wind, and he shook it impatiently out of his eyes as he tilted his head back to gulp down the last of the beer. Setting down the bottle, he flipped his cigarette over the side and watched it leave an arc of sparks in the inky night. Bad boy, he thought with ironic satisfaction; ooh, dangerous.
The next minute he felt Billy’s arm around his shoulder and Billy’s voice saying, “Elijah, why don’t you take it easy for the rest of the evening? You know we have an early call tomorrow.”
Elijah squinted at Billy and said somewhat coldly, “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.”
“Well, then, I think it’s time for tired little hobbits to head on to bed. Why don’t you just use the spare room tonight, and I’ll leave a message that the car can pick you up here.”
“Nah, I think I’ll head on home. A walk would do me good.” Smiling apologetically at Billy (don’t be rude to the host), Elijah continued, “It was a nice party, Billy. I’m just kinda out of it.”
As they turned to enter the hot living room pulsing and thumping from the pumped-up speakers, Elijah asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So, did we ever hear from the elf?”
“No, bugger stood us up. I did call his house earlier, but the line was busy.”
Elijah shrugged, waved at Dom and the other dancers who were slamming into and bouncing off of each other, and made his way to the front door. He could see Billy looking at him speculatively, and mouthed “See you in Feet!”
He was halfway down the walk when he heard, “Elijah!” He turned to see a small plastic sack sailing toward him and caught it reflexively. It was full of little tin hearts.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Billy smiled, before shutting the door behind him.
* * * * * * * *
As Elijah strolled in the balmy Wellington evening, he marveled how much the weather felt like L.A. this time of year, despite the reversed seasons. Soon they would be sliding into autumn and then winter, and then they would be back to September. Elijah felt a wave of melancholy that astounded him. They were only one-third of the way through the shooting; why did he have this feeling that everything was coming to an end too soon?
Maybe having just come back from visiting his family for Christmas had put him in this weird mood. Although he had been a bit homesick for his family the first four months he’d been in New Zealand, going home for a holiday had made him feel out of place and disjointed. After being independent for the first time in his life, going back to stay with his mom and sister had made him feel a little suffocated. He hadn’t realized until he’d moved to Wellington how much of the time he had been under someone’s careful eye growing up. His mom had always been on set with him, and while she had probably kept him from doing some pretty stupid things, she’d also kept him from doing a lot of things other kids just took for granted. Here, while he was respected for his professionalism at work, for the first time in his life he was able to just cut loose and play with a group of friends as an equal.
Maybe that was why he was so moody - the idea of leaving behind these guys was enough to make anyone dread the future. They shared everything and talked about everything. Orlando was especially open; he never knew a stranger and assumed everyone was his friend. He lived life at top speed, enthusiastically throwing himself off bridges and out of airplanes, screaming joyfully at the top of his lungs, beautiful and uninhibited - and straight.
Elijah scuffed his sneakers on the concrete with a snort. Fucking Orlando. Since they’d first arrived, Orli had become one of the important people in Elijah’s life to the point that he couldn’t imagine doing without him . They’d laughed and gotten drunk together, surfed, played music, and spun out fantastic dreams for the future. Elijah was pleased to be able to wise Orli up about some realities of the business; truly, sometimes Orli was so thrilled about everything that he just seemed naïve. And the admiration that Orli felt for Elijah’s talent and status in his career was so obviously sincere that it bordered on the way Elijah felt about Cate Blanchett or Ian McKellen; it was really quite gratifying. For his part, Elijah could see Orli eagerly learning about his craft from everyone around him every day. It worried Elijah a little that Orli seemed to walk around with his heart exposed to the world; someday the world was going to give in to the temptation to rip it out.
Unless, of course, Orlando’s girlfriend didn’t rip it out first. Orlando often confided in Elijah about the woman back home in England, sharing their ups and downs, and there were many. Elijah secretly felt she was a right wench and couldn’t understand why Orlando let her treat him the way she did. If Elijah were with a great guy like Orli, he wouldn’t subject him to long arguments that would leave Orli depressed and withdrawn; he would appreciate the fact that he was with a man who was so compassionate and considerate. She blew hot and cold on Orlando, sometimes so sweet that he wanted to jump on the next plane to propose, sometimes so harsh that he feared to speak with her. What a lot of crap. In fact, Elijah knew that Orlando had planned to call her before the party tonight in order to wish her an early Valentine’s Day. He’d probably gotten all involved in schmoopy small talk for hours and forgotten that his best buds were throwing a fabulous party.
Elijah smiled to himself and fingered the hearts through the plastic bag. Ha, payback was a bitch. Two weeks ago Orlando had sneaked into Elijah’s house while Elijah lay sleeping and left his bedroom full of confetti and birthday banners. Tonight Elijah would sneak into Orli’s house, sprinkle the sentimental sap with little red hearts, and sneak back out again. Of course Orli would guess right away who’d done it when he awoke, but this was the type of innocent attention that he’d enjoy.
* * * * * * *
As he carefully let himself in the front door, Elijah vaguely remembered another night of revelry where he’d helped Orli into the house; Orli had turned to him, placed the key in his hand, and closing Elijah’s fingers over the key said solemnly, “Mate, if we keep making a habit of this, you might as well have one. Next time I might not be conscious enough to find it.” Elijah had felt enormously honored at the time and formally bowed to his friend, trying to stifle his giggles. Then looping their arms around each others’ shoulders, they had ricocheted down the hallway, Orli dumping Elijah on the couch as he continued his rambling path onward to his bedroom. It had felt like a sort of homecoming to Elijah for some reason, and he’d fallen asleep immediately.
Now he crept silently toward the dark bedroom, where the door stood partly ajar. He hesitated, realizing that the dim hallway light would silhouette his figure. Then he heard a strange low wailing noise that lifted the hair on the back of his neck. He heedlessly pushed the door open further and whispered, “Orli?”
In the unlighted room he could make out a figure on the bed sitting with its back against the wall. It gestured in a way that said “Come in,” so Elijah moved toward the bed, wondering if he should turn on the light or trust to the hall light. His foot struck an object which he could tell from the clinking was a bottle - several bottles, actually. Wading carefully through the surf of glass, he made his way to the side of the bed.
“Orli?” he repeated, when there was no further response from the figure. “What’s the matter, man?”
Orli turned his face toward Elijah, who was shocked in the streetlight glimmer from the window to see a face so distorted and changed from any expression he’d ever seen there that he doubted its identity for a moment.
“Shit!” Elijah whispered. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
He could now see that Orli’s face was not really changed, but twisted in the agony of trying to hold back sobs. There were tracks of tears down his face that trailed down his neck and onto his bare chest, gleaming eerily silver in the half-light. He was clad only in a pair of sweat pants, and Elijah could see his whole body trembling slightly.
Moving swiftly, Elijah scooped one edge of the blanket over Orli and settled next to him to pull him into his arms. Rubbing his hands over the chilly arms, Elijah murmured, “It’s OK, Orli. Whatever it is. We’ll make it OK.”
Orli let out a strangled cry at that and turned his body to bury his head on Elijah’s shoulder. Heaving and choking, he let himself go and cried unrestrainedly. Elijah held him tighter and kept muttering nonsensical comfort into his ear.
Finally Orli pushed himself away and settled against the pillow behind him. He hiccupped slightly as he regained his breath and got back his composure, then took a swig from a bottle he had clutched in his hand the whole time.
Elijah sat still, not speaking, his arms still held loosely around his friend. Orli sighed, tossed the bottle to the floor, then turned toward Elijah.
“Sorry, man. I had a phone call tonight. She dumped me. End of story. I’ll survive.”
“Shit, that’s, just - shit.”
Orli snorted, then slurred, “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. You know the drill - long distance, new interests, we can always stay friends, blahblahblah.”
Aware he was still clinging to Orli, Elijah started to move away, but was pinioned by Orli’s leanly muscled arms. Orli mumbled, “Don’t go. I’ve been sitting here drinking all by myself, feeling like it was the end of the world. It’s nice to know there’s someone else around.”
Elijah tried to relax, but he couldn’t help being aware of Orlando, all that skin touching him (directly touching the skin on his arms), pressing down the whole length of his own body. Orlando put his head back on Elijah’s shoulder, shifting down so that his left leg lay over Elijah.
As they lay there, many things began to come together for Elijah. The most overriding sense was that of the unfairness of it all. Elijah had managed to keep from himself how deeply he cared for Orlando except as a good friend, but all barriers were down now. He bitterly wondered how he could go back to the old way of acting freely around his friend, since now there would be a double awareness of every touch, every cuddle and punch - the outward friendliness and the inward yearning for something that Orlando would not be feeling with him.
Some friend you are, he scoffed to himself. The guy’s heart is broken, and instead of empathizing, you’re just full of how he makes you feel all squishy inside. Get over yourself, asshole.
He decided to let Orlando speak first and then follow his lead to provide whatever Orlando needed to make him feel better. But Orlando never spoke. They lay entwined and silent, the clock dropping ticks into the room like water dripping in Gollum’s cave.
At last, wondering if Orlando had gone to sleep or passed out, Elijah gently stroked his hand over Orlando’s cheek. His heart contracted at the feel of warm dampness and then clenched as Orlando’s hand came up over his. Far from rejecting the caress, however, Orlando squeezed Elijah’s hand and then slowly moved it to his lips. There was a rush of hot air, then Elijah felt the softest touch on the back of his hand and then in the palm. Almost hypnotized, Elijah let Orlando drag his hand back over Orlando’s cheek, his oversensitized fingers tingling with the conflicting sensations of bristly stubble and satin sleekness. Then their hands slipped down the curve of Orlando’s neck, descending over the muscled curve of Orlando’s chest…
As Elijah gasped, electrified, Orlando gently swallowed down Elijah’s breath with a deep, drowning kiss. All thought seared from him, Elijah gave in to the kiss and let it carry him where it would.
* * * * * * *
“Hey, Elijah! Snap out of it! It’s show time!” said Dom, clicking his fingers together under Elijah’s nose.
“Oh, sorry, I’m just exhausted,” Elijah replied, yawning loudly to prove his point.
He noticed the other hobbits had gathered their belongings and were heading for the door, fully wigged and footed. Billy looked back at him with a strange expression. In order to head off whatever he was going to say, Elijah continued quickly, “You were right, Billy. I should have stayed at your place last night. I didn’t get a bit of sleep after I got home anyway.”
Suddenly the door to the trailer opened, and Legolas bounded in, all clear-eyed and pristine Elijah noted sourly. But it was Orlando’s voice saying excitedly, “Hey, before we all go our separate ways, are we still on for the pub tonight?”
“Yeah, see you at 9:00,” Dom said, as they trooped down the steps of the trailer, leaving Orlando alone with Elijah.
Elijah kept his face impassive but friendly, waiting to see how Orlando was going to play this. He’d been through so many dissonant feelings over the past few hours that he had no strength to even know how he wanted Orlando to react. After Orlando had fallen asleep, Elijah had slipped quietly out of the bed and run all the way home. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Orlando’s eyes once he awoke and remembered what they’d done - if he remembered. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to be found at Orlando’s house having missed his own early ride to the studio. He had spent the early morning hours turning over how he should handle the next meeting with Orlando. Elijah knew what he wanted, but he figured that was only “a fool’s hope” at best.
Elijah’s mouth twitched at the thought, and Orlando, as if released by the smile, beamed all over his face. Elijah groaned inwardly and thought, okay, it’s “forget our little drunken binge, no harm, no foul, we’re the same good buddies we’ve always been...” And added to himself, I made the bed, I have to lie in it.
Orlando walked over to Elijah, dropped an envelope in his lap, and walked back to the door without saying a word. Startled, Elijah picked it up and pulled out a piece of paper releasing a shower of little red hearts. Fucking shit, he thought, his face flaming, I forgot all about that stupid package and left it there. He must think I’m the lamest…
He stared down at the sketch in his hand. A roughly-drawn elf figure was holding out his hand to an obvious hobbit. In his hand was a heart and underneath was written, “Will you be My Valentine?”
Biting his lip, he looked up in disbelief at the man waiting in tense expectation by the door.
Elijah looked up at him and nodded, speechlessly.
“Right. Pick you up at 7:00? Good!” said Orli; after he disappeared through the door Elijah could hear him whooping all the way across the lot.
Oh for Christ’s sake, I cannot believe he just did that, thought Elijah. I cannot believe I just did that. We have lost our cool creds forever. But he couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
End.
Feedback would be vastly appreciated, as always.
Also, I am so very thrilled that the story written for me, which made me so happy last week due to its hotness and David/Elijahness (Sunburn) was written by my own beloved trianne. How lucky was I in this exchange?! (Hee, she didn't do so badly herself - by an odd set of circumstances she ended up with THREE fics dedicated to her. Couldn't happen to a nicer person!)
For the full list of 2006 Slashy Valentine fics, go here. Many lovely LOTRiPS boys to be found! Major kudos to azrhiaz for coordinating and putting up this challenge!