Pride - Part Twenty One
No really, this fic isn't dead, I've just had a really busy few weeks. If you want to know the details, you can read them on my LJ here.
I would like to say a huge thankyou to everyone who commented on the last chapter for being so patient, and for all the well wishes I received despite the fact that no-one knew where I'd dissapeared to. (not even my beta, sorry Bee). You're all amazing; readers, commenters and well wishers. Thank you so much, and I hope this delay hasn't put you off the story. I plan to post a chapter a week at least for the next six weeks, after that, I actually have to write new stuff, so we'll see how it goes. *looks hopefully at year planner*
Thank You as always to bee_ta_baby for being the bestest beta ever. She's a star and must be worshipped.
Title: Pride
Author: jenexell
Pairing/Characters: VigOrli with hints of Orlijah if you squint and tilt your head just so. Ian, Dom, Billy, Sean B.
Rating: R for some violence and bad language. NC-17 later.
Disclaimer: If this was real, I wouldn't share. As its not, I'm sharing with no personal gain or profit, other than perhaps to feed my attention whore complex. non-recognisable elements are mine! plagiarists will be eaten alive weasels. Distribution: My Journal, box_of_tales, and quite a few other places too. (attention whore complex). If you want it, ask me.
Warnings: Some violent imagery. Cats. I'm serious. CATS!
Summery: It was so mind bending, but it was real, and it was happening to him, so one way or another he would have to get his act together and cope. Because if he didn’t? Well if he didn’t he would probably end up some kind of whacked out nervous wreck, who lived alone, jumped at shadows and turned into a screaming loony at the sight of his auntie’s cats.
Part Twenty One - Own Four Paws
“Do you know Jessica?”
“I dunno… what’s she look like?”
“I meant the song Orli! By the Allman Brothers Band!”
Orlando frowned and leant back against the wall as he looked up at Elijah in query. The boy had once again awed him with his capacity for forgiveness. They all had. Almost a week had passed since he’d gone slightly mental and Billy had had to lay the verbal smack down on him, but looking around now no one would have guessed the house had been in such turmoil just a few days previously. He owed Billy big time. He’d be the first to admit he hadn’t wanted to listen at the time, but the man gave good advice. Scrap that, the man was a fucking genius. Billy had been right, he’d been angry, he’d been more than angry. Still was, truth be told. Angry at that gang for attacking him, angry with the family for smothering him, angry with Viggo for leaving. Oh yeah, he was fucking furious with Viggo right now. He didn’t know what the man’s issue was, but they were supposed to be friends and he hadn’t even tried to talk to him. Just another example of people trying to protect poor helpless Orli. Oh yeah, definitely still angry. And Hurt, and sad, and every other emotion he could think of. Half the time he felt like he was on a rollercoaster, one minute on top of the world, the next he either just wanted to cry at the damned unfairness of it all, or just lash out, purge all the fury that would build up until he felt ready to burst. But he was better than he was. And that was thanks to Billy, and his two extremely sage pieces of advice. Find an outlet and talk to the family.
Talking to the family had happened two nights after his fall from the sanity tree. He hadn’t been ready before then. He had of course screamed all his issues at Billy when he’d been confronted, but if he was going to get the family to take him seriously, he’d known he’d have to be calm. So he’d approached it at dinner. First he had apologised for his behaviour and had then gone on to explained how he felt. Smothered, babied, as if they were trying to make him helpless. Elijah and Sean had apologised, the younger getting up and giving him a hug. Dom had smirked, nodded, and asked Ian if that meant he could now be as rude as he liked. And Ian had nodded sagely giving Orlando the impression that Ian at least, had been waiting for him to stand up for himself.
As for the outlet, that was turning out more fun than he’d imagined. Billy had practically frog marched him down the basement music room and although It had taken a bit of coaxing the Scot finally managed to get him to really let rip on the skins. It felt wonderful. There was no way to describe it. The drums took all the abuse that he could throw at them and then some. He could be as loud - as obnoxious - as angry as he wanted, and it was allowed. It made him feel strong for some reason. In control.
The only drawback was that the old drum kit was in the music room, which was by some unwritten accord, really Billy’s domain. Billy was as much a musician as an actor, if not more. While Billy could play a number of instruments, the rest of the family also dabbled somewhat as well, with exception of Sean; who, by mutual agreement of the whole family, was banned from coming near the room on account of having the musical ability of a lamp-post outside of football chants.
That’s where the fun came in. Over the last few days Orlando had jammed a bit with Billy, but today, everyone was down here. Well everyone being himself, Billy, Dom and Elijah. They had the house to themselves, and a spot of winter afternoon boredom had prompted Billy to suggest they have a bit of a session. The problem however, was what to play. They could try and improvise, but the range of tastes and abilities in the group could make that an... interesting experience. So they’d decided, somewhat wisely in Orlando’s opinion, to start out by playing something they all knew. Which explained Elijah’s question, but not the how to answer.
“Err... No?”
“Yes you do Orli,” Dom called from somewhere behind an ancient amp he was trying to get to work. “The Top Gear tune.”
“Ooooh.” Orlando replied in dawning recognition. “Sure... but I thought we were going to start with something easy?”
“Too tough for your weakling arms Orlando?” Billy joked, laughing when Orlando stuck his tongue out and turning to Dom. “Base or Lead?”
“Lead. Especially if we do Jessica. I suck at Base.” Dom admitted, his words muffled. “Ah ha! Fucking mice! Anyone got any duct-tape?”
“Here,” Elijah replied, tossing a roll in his direction. “And Orli said no to Jessica, too difficult for his skinny arms.”
“Fuck you Lij.” Orlando laughed.
“Ahh, I thought we got past all that. I’ve told you. I prefer my men less slutty.” Elijah joked back.
Orlando gaped, and then snapped his mouth shut as he threw a spare drumstick at the younger man. “You cunt!”
“Takes one to know one!” Elijah shot back, the drumstick having missed by a mile.
“Children.” Billy warned. “Don’t make me come over there.”
“Promises promises.” Orlando and Elijah laughed in unison.
“I give up. Dom, save me from these two before I go mad.”
Dom poked his head up from behind the amp and shot him an incredulous look. “You want me to save you?”
“Fine! Fine! Whatever! Can we please choose a song?” Billy sighed in exasperated resignation.
“Jessica†.” Elijah insisted.
“Billy if you say ‘I’m gonna be*’ I’ll slap you myself.” Dom warned. “My Vote’s Wonderwall‡.”
“I’m with Dom.” Orlando nodded.
“Fine.” Billy let out a breath and picking up the acoustic guitar and passing it to Dom, swapping for the base. “Wonderwall it is then... no shut up Lij, just get behind your keyboard and play. Fuck you people are hard work. We ready? Right... One, two, three, four...”
pqpqpqpq
“I told you it was too complicated.” Orlando laughed as he came up through the door from the basement, the three Terrors following close behind.
“I have never in my life heard anything so awful.” Billy moaned. “Elijah, where exactly did you learn to play?”
“Hey it wasn’t that bad!” Elijah squawked in protest.
“Jerry Lee Lewis you are not my dear vertically challenged friend.” Dom said with mock seriousness from the back of the line.
“Like you’re much taller.” Elijah grumbled.
“No, but I can play better than you.” Dom bounced back.
“Ahhem.”
All four stopped in their tracks as they were about to pass into the hallway, turning to face the throat clearer. Ian. The oldest member of the family was sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper and a raised eyebrow. “You know, I do so love it when you four beautiful boys lavish me with love and attention.”
“Sorry Ian didn’t see you there.” Elijah replied sheepishly.
“I rather noticed that.” Ian laughed. “What may I ask, has you four so animated that you could ignore my admittedly hansom self?”
“Music.” Elijah replied.
“Elijah massacring an Eagles classic.” Dom clarified with a shudder.
“Hotel Californiaθ... destroyed, desecrated...” Orlando hammed, leaning on Billy’s shoulder and mock sobbing. “I may never recover.”
Billy patted his head and shook his head sadly. “A sad day indeed for music... there, there, Orlando... Glen Fry may never forgive Elijah, but Don Henley would be grateful for your efforts.”
Ian laughed loudly and shook his head. “Oh go off with you. You pack of melodramatic hacks.”
The four shot Ian over the top shocked looks and offended gestures, Dom actually clutching his chest and going almost to his knees as they moved to leave the room.
“Ah, Orlando... A moment?” Ian called before he was out of earshot.
Orlando turned, flipping Dom the bird when the Mancunian wagged his finger and sing-songed “Orlando’s in trouble, Orlando’s in Trouble!”
With the terrors gone, Orlando crossed the kitchen and sat down at the table, eyeing Ian with wary curiosity. “What’s up?”
“You aren’t really in trouble Orlando.” Ian said with a chuckle and reassuring smile. “Relax, dear boy I don’t bite unless asked!”
Orlando laughed and shot Ian a pointed if self-deprecating look. “Sorry... just last time you asked for a ‘word’ it didn’t end so well.”
“Hmmm... Yes, I’m glad to see we’re past all that silliness. I really do wish you talked to us sooner.” Ian sighed. “But no matter, you did in the end, and that’s partially what I want to talk to you about. You told us you wanted us to stop coddling you, and you were right. We were, and to some extent we still are. No one gets a free ride in this house...”
“I know.” Orlando cut in. “I wanted to talk to you too... I know I haven’t been pulling my weight around here and I want to. I wouldn’t... I didn’t think...”
“Orlando, hush. I know you’re not some kind of freeloader. As nice as I appear to be, I don’t suffer people trying to take advantage of my good nature.” Ian said seriously. He sighed and leant forward, mulling over his words for a second. “I’ve never charged anyone rent to live here. But there are rules...”
Orlando listened carefully, wishing at times for a pen and paper, as Ian detailed the true living arrangements in the house. Most of it he already knew. Those with established careers wouldn’t be used as stepping-stones, they wouldn’t tolerate it, and he should not expect them to put in a good word for him. Not that he’d expected them to anyway. Utility and Grocery bills were shared; anything out of ordinary he would have to pay for himself, which was only fair. If he couldn’t pay, or wanted to save up for something, he could take on other peoples chores around the house or garden to compensate. Again, fair. If he went out, he couldn’t bring anyone back for obvious reasons. The same reasons why Ian couldn’t hire a cleaner or gardener. No one else should be expected to clean up his Cat hair, even Sean, same as Sean would get a tongue lashing if he tried to wangle his way out of cleaning up after himself, especially in the next few weeks when they’d both be shedding their winter coats. No sitting on the couches in feline form. His own room was his own responsibility; he could keep it how he liked as long as it didn’t attract vermin. No drinking upstairs. If he wanted to drink, he could do so away from the house, or in plain sight. Ian had lived with too many alcoholics to let that one by. And so it went on. The same kinds of things that anyone sharing a house would expect; it didn’t matter that Ian, Sean, Viggo and Elijah were far wealthier than he, Dominic or Billy. They’d worked hard to get to that position and could reap the benefits. They weren’t mean about it, it was simply that everyone was expected to stand on their own two feet - or four paws - and contribute what they could to household.
“I think that just about covers it, don’t you?” Ian said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “I feel like a boarding-house matron. Of course an awful lot of what we’ve just discussed is a little moot until you get a job. Have you actually considered any of that yet? If you want to get back on your feet you ought to.”
Orlando frowned and studied his nails. “I dunno... I don’t think I want to work work yet... It’s hard to explain... I’m just...”
“Not ready to have people staring at you, while you try and express emotions and actions that are not your own, while your own are in such turmoil?” Ian said knowingly. “Dear boy, I don’t blame you. But what about school?”
“I...” Orlando thought for a second. “I want to go back... I miss it. And I still want to be an actor. It was never a matter of not wanting that...”
“I didn’t doubt it for a moment.” Ian concurred. “But there is something holding you back, what is it?”
“What apart from the fact that I’ve been away for 8 weeks?”
“Yes apart from that.” Ian chuckled. “You may have been away eight weeks, but I know a little about how that place works, and I know the first semester ended last week, and the second starts next week, so technically you’ve only missed six weeks. Surely that’s recoverable?”
“Should be I think. All the performances were assessed before Christmas, so it’s all write up and text analysis assignments that I’ve not completed. And plenty of people resubmit those over the summer anyway.” Orlando mused.
“I think you qualify for extenuating circumstances.” Ian replied ruefully.
“Yeah... missing presumed dead kinda beats the usual migraine attacks and study stress excuses huh?” Orlando giggled.
“I should say, but you’re avoiding the issue. What’s stopping you from going back?” Ian pressed.
“It’s not the course... it’s the life I think. I don’t know if I’m ready to face everyone. And all the stuff that goes with that.” Orlando admitted sadly. “I’m not the same person that I was... what if it all seems... I don’t know... wrong”
“Well you’ll never know until you try.”
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Orlando hadn’t known this nook existed until Elijah had pointed it out to him. Had he known about it, he’d never have imagined himself hiding in it. But here he was, hiding, trying to work up the nerve to go through a door to the rest of his life. Well the rest of his life for the next two years. And wasn’t that a relief. He’d been right, they’d let him back. Guildhall. He was back at guildhall, officially. He and Elijah had come in early that morning to talk to his tutors and they’d all been so... OK they’d frustrated him beyond belief with their exclamations of surprise and concern and urghh... it was like going back two weeks with the family. But never mind, it was to be expected he supposed, and he now had all the forms he needed to make sure he wasn’t penalised for his late submissions, he was re-enrolled and was relieved to find his grant hadn’t been cancelled. So all that was left was to go through that door and face the crowd he knew was in there. His friends, classmates, and others. He could do this. Piece of cake. Really.
“You ready?”
“Really not.”
“Come on Orli, they’re just people. And nowhere near as scary as half the people you live with.”
“Have you met Maya? She’s going to strangle me.”
“No she’s not. She’s missed you. So come on. Make her day and go out there.”
“Fine.”
Orlando took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The familiar smells and sights of the canteen were almost a relief, he’d spent hours in here over the last year, and a bit, talking, studying, planning performances, commiserating poor performances, you name it. It was the student home from home. The same old tables, and chairs, same old canteen staff that looked like they would love to take an Uzi the student population, same old corner occupied by his crowd. His crowd that were now looking at him as if they’d just seen a ghost.
“No way, No fucking way, man. I’m fucking seeing things now.”
‘Lij, man you did tell them I was coming back right?’ Orlando projected frantically upon hearing the various shocked exclamations.
Elijah’s mental laugh was not reassuring, neither was the fact that he’d started to walk away. ‘Tell them you were coming back? I didn’t even tell them you were alive! Pay back’s a bitch ain’t it Orli?’
The group at the corner table were on their feet and approaching and all Orlando could do was stare at them wide eyed, and offer a little wave. “Hi?”
“YOU COMPLETE SHITHEAD!”
Elijah was so dead.
Tbc…
† Jessica by the Allman Brothers Band, (recognisable to Brits as the theme from Top Gear)ζ
* I’m Gonna Be by the Proclaimers (Scottish band that never made it very big, but returned to the charts recently with the comic relief single) ζ
‡ Wonderwall by Oasis (this song needs no explanation) ζ
θ Hotel California by The Eagles (probably the best song in the world, by the officially the best band in the world) ζ
ζ I plan to put up a playable soundtrack to PRIDE in the near future. Just working out hosting space right now.
Part Twenty Two - Home Is...