Chance Encounters
Title: Chance Encounters
Pairing: Sean/Elijah
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No I don’t own them, yes this is made up.
Feedback: As always, any is appreciated.
Notes: AU. This is my first Sean fic that I’ve had the courage to post, so I hope some people enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed reading others!
Like so many chance encounters, Elijah meets Sean for the first time at a funeral.
Sean stands out because of his awkwardness. Elijah guesses - almost as soon as he sees him standing against a wall at the wake, holding a teacup - that Sean didn’t know the deceased, and is probably only accompanying someone else here.
He thinks about going over for a chat - honestly there’s only so much doom and gloom he can take, and it’d be nice to go over and talk to some random guy about nothing in particular and forget about Ian’s death for a while. He’s a rather good-looking guy at that, just Elijah’s type, with a little bit of a pot-belly and bright hazel eyes. Elijah has had enough of crying and reminiscing for now, anyway. In the end, he doesn’t have to go over on his own; Dom, ever the caring friend, introduces them to each other the instant he notices Elijah glancing in that direction.
“Elijah, you don’t know Sean Astin, do you? He’s one of Ian’s colleagues. Sean, this is Elijah Wood - he’s...he was Ian’s adopted son.”
Sean’s politely interested face morphs into a look of pity.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says formally, extending his hand to Elijah.
“Oh. Right. Erm, thanks.” Even after almost a week, Elijah still doesn’t really know how to respond to that expression. Sean’s handshake is warm and firm.
“Ian was such a wonderful person,” Sean adds. “He was a joy to work with.”
Elijah nods - Ian had been one of the best independent theatre directors in town. “Did you work closely with him?”
“Yeah, especially in the last three or four years. He’ll be missed.”
Elijah is torn between wanting to tell Sean that he’s had enough of hearing this, that he finds Sean insanely attractive, and that he’s probably going to miss Ian a hell of a lot more than anyone else will. He doesn’t get a chance to choose - one of Ian’s unspeakably awful sisters is at his shoulder, handing him another cup of tea and a wad of tissues and asking him if he needs to talk to someone. By the time Elijah manages to turn back to Sean, he’s gone.
***
Elijah spends the evening alone, once everyone has gone home. He goes through the sympathy cards that have been left in neat piles on the sideboard, and polishes off the end of a bottle of whiskey left over from Christmas. He comes across the one from Sean: “Dear Mr Wood, Our deepest sympathies at this difficult time. Yours faithfully, the Renton Theatre Company.” It’s very formal, quite curt, and brings Sean right to the front of Elijah’s mind.
***
He calls into the office of the company the next day. He’s lucky, for once - Sean’s there, going through a pile of scripts and striking out certain lines. It’s hardly a proper office, even - rather just a small room, with a desk and a filing cabinet.
“Hi, Elijah,” Sean says, getting up as Elijah enters. Elijah is momentarily impressed that Sean remembers his name. “How are you?”
“I’m OK, thanks,” Elijah says, and stands somewhat awkwardly in the space between the door and the desk; he doesn’t know it, but it’s the same kind of out-of-place stance that made him first notice Sean. “I just wanted to call by and say thanks for coming to the funeral - it meant a lot. Ian’s work was always very important to him.”
Sean smiled sadly. “I know it was; he was so dedicated to the theatre. It’s nice of you to drop by.” He clears his throat, and looks Elijah right in the eyes in a way that makes Elijah’s heart thump a little faster. Sean really is good-looking, and there’s something about him that attracts Elijah like a needle to a magnet. He’s thrown off enough to miss what Sean says.
“Sorry, what?”
Sean blushes a little. That’s nice. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about? I don’t know if I can give any advice, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
‘No’ is automatically on the tip of Elijah’s tongue. But when he thinks about it, it might actually do him some good to talk to someone. And that someone might as well be a guy he’d like to get to know better anyway.
“That’s kind of you,” he says, giving Sean a smile. “Would you mind listening?”
“Not at all,” Sean says sympathetically. He glances at the clock on the wall. “How about we do it over some lunch?”
The phrasing makes Elijah’s eyes widen, but as Sean doesn’t seem to notice, all he says is, “That sounds good. Thank you.”
***
Sean leads him out of the office and down the street.
“I usually eat in here,” he says, pausing outside a small sandwich and coffee bar. “But if there’s anywhere else you’d like to go...”
“Here’s fine,” Elijah says, with a quick smile.
They go in, and choose a table and a sandwich. They wait in silence until lunch arrives; perversely, they both feel more comfortable talking with food in front of them. It takes them a while to get started, but Elijah finds that it does help to talk to someone who’s willing to sit still and not keep interrupting. He tells Sean, unprompted, about being adopted at the age of ten by Ian, how close they became, how he was always frightened that Ian would die before Elijah was grown up and he’d have to go back to the orphanage, about Ian’s long battle with cancer, how his death was almost a relief. By the time he’s finished, his throat hurts with the size of the lump in it and his eyes are itching with the deadly combination of unspilled tears and contact lenses.
Sean is watching him closely. Elijah forces a watery smile, but he can’t hold it.
“I’m sorry,” Sean says finally, and reaches across the table to rest his left hand on top of Elijah’s right. The words are simple, but with the gesture and the honesty in Sean’s eyes it makes Elijah’s heart skip a beat, even though sex is the last thing on his mind right now.
“Thanks for listening,” he says, and gives Sean’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go.
***
There’s a knock at the door.
“Just a moment!” Elijah calls hastily. He’s sitting in the bath, chest deep in hot water and lavender-scented bubbles - it helps him sleep these days. He gets out, wraps a towel round his waist, and goes to the door.
Sean is standing on the step, with a parcel in one hand.
“Oh,” he says, going brilliantly red shockingly quickly. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, no!” Elijah can feel his own cheeks heating up with a fervent blush. “Come on in - er, let me just go put something on. Have a seat.” He practically runs for the bedroom, leaving Sean to perch awkwardly on the edge of the sofa.
Elijah fumbled for underwear, behind the safety of a closed door, trying to will away the blush. What was Sean doing here at this time of night? He manages to pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and pads out to Sean barefooted.
“Sorry about that,” he says shyly.
Sean waves it away - his face is still red. “It’s my fault, I should have called ahead.” He passes Elijah the parcel. “I just thought I’d call round and see how you were doing. And I - I brought you some tea.”
Elijah, slightly amused, opens the parcel, to find a box of Earl Grey teabags.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll put the kettle on then.”
He goes through into the kitchen. Sean follows, and watches awkwardly as Elijah makes two cups of tea.
“Earl Grey makes me feel better, when I’m low,” Sean volunteers, wrapping his hands around his own mug. “I just thought it might help.”
“Thanks,” Elijah says, and takes a sip. He hides a grimace - he’s not a big fan of tea, and would probably have added two or three sugars if Sean hadn’t been watching him. “It’s a nice thought.”
“So, how are you doing?”
Elijah ponders it. “I’m doing OK. Of course there’s grief, but I suppose it’s that way with everyone who loses a parent.” He gives Sean a smile, as if to assure him that he’ll be fine with time, and takes another sip of the tea.
Sean nods, and fidgets with the spoon that Elijah used to stir the tea.
“I sort of called round to...” Sean says suddenly, but then trails off, blushing.
“To what?” Elijah asks, frowning slightly.
Sean looks up to meet Elijah’s eyes.
“I think you’re really lovely,” he says nervously. “I know you’re really preoccupied at the moment and that you’re probably not looking for any sort of...relationship. But...well, I think I really like you, and maybe...maybe when you’re feeling a bit better, we could...go for dinner sometime?”
Elijah’s heart, which has been steadily speeding up as Sean speaks, jumps.
“Well,” he says, choosing his words quite carefully, “I can’t imagine anything that would make me feel better than having dinner with you sometime.” He puts his cup down and moves a little closer to Sean. “Actually, I think being in a relationship right now would be good for me. I really like you too, Sean.”
Sean smiles, sudden warmth shining through his eyes.
“Do we have a date, then?” he asks, his mouth now inches away from Elijah’s.
Elijah closes the gap. The kiss isn’t long, or deep, but it’s everything Elijah ever wanted a first kiss to be.
“We certainly do,” he whispers, once they pull away.
***
They go out for dinner later that week. The evening continues with coffee at Elijah’s house and long talks well into the early morning. They move to Elijah’s bed at around half three.
The sex isn’t technically perfect - there’s awkward fumblings, and the occasional whispered apology into the dark. But it all just makes Elijah love Sean even more. Sean goes on top, and he has a certain way of caressing Elijah’s cheeks and forehead, pushing back hair that gradually soaks with sweat, that makes Elijah hotter and harder than he’s ever been before. Sean’s hands, large and cool, somehow sense instinctively where to touch and stroke that spends sparks right through Elijah. And then there’s Sean’s cock as well, which feels more right inside Elijah than any other ever has.
They lie together afterwards, the silence in the bedroom only broken by two different breaths. Sean keeps one hand resting on the bone of Elijah’s left hip as if to anchor him. Elijah can’t stop smiling.
“You OK?” Sean asks eventually.
Elijah turns slightly on the axis of the hip that Sean is now fanning his fingers over slowly.
“More OK than I’ve been in a long time,” he says, and leans in for another kiss before letting his eyes slip shut.
Pairing: Sean/Elijah
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No I don’t own them, yes this is made up.
Feedback: As always, any is appreciated.
Notes: AU. This is my first Sean fic that I’ve had the courage to post, so I hope some people enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed reading others!
Like so many chance encounters, Elijah meets Sean for the first time at a funeral.
Sean stands out because of his awkwardness. Elijah guesses - almost as soon as he sees him standing against a wall at the wake, holding a teacup - that Sean didn’t know the deceased, and is probably only accompanying someone else here.
He thinks about going over for a chat - honestly there’s only so much doom and gloom he can take, and it’d be nice to go over and talk to some random guy about nothing in particular and forget about Ian’s death for a while. He’s a rather good-looking guy at that, just Elijah’s type, with a little bit of a pot-belly and bright hazel eyes. Elijah has had enough of crying and reminiscing for now, anyway. In the end, he doesn’t have to go over on his own; Dom, ever the caring friend, introduces them to each other the instant he notices Elijah glancing in that direction.
“Elijah, you don’t know Sean Astin, do you? He’s one of Ian’s colleagues. Sean, this is Elijah Wood - he’s...he was Ian’s adopted son.”
Sean’s politely interested face morphs into a look of pity.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says formally, extending his hand to Elijah.
“Oh. Right. Erm, thanks.” Even after almost a week, Elijah still doesn’t really know how to respond to that expression. Sean’s handshake is warm and firm.
“Ian was such a wonderful person,” Sean adds. “He was a joy to work with.”
Elijah nods - Ian had been one of the best independent theatre directors in town. “Did you work closely with him?”
“Yeah, especially in the last three or four years. He’ll be missed.”
Elijah is torn between wanting to tell Sean that he’s had enough of hearing this, that he finds Sean insanely attractive, and that he’s probably going to miss Ian a hell of a lot more than anyone else will. He doesn’t get a chance to choose - one of Ian’s unspeakably awful sisters is at his shoulder, handing him another cup of tea and a wad of tissues and asking him if he needs to talk to someone. By the time Elijah manages to turn back to Sean, he’s gone.
***
Elijah spends the evening alone, once everyone has gone home. He goes through the sympathy cards that have been left in neat piles on the sideboard, and polishes off the end of a bottle of whiskey left over from Christmas. He comes across the one from Sean: “Dear Mr Wood, Our deepest sympathies at this difficult time. Yours faithfully, the Renton Theatre Company.” It’s very formal, quite curt, and brings Sean right to the front of Elijah’s mind.
***
He calls into the office of the company the next day. He’s lucky, for once - Sean’s there, going through a pile of scripts and striking out certain lines. It’s hardly a proper office, even - rather just a small room, with a desk and a filing cabinet.
“Hi, Elijah,” Sean says, getting up as Elijah enters. Elijah is momentarily impressed that Sean remembers his name. “How are you?”
“I’m OK, thanks,” Elijah says, and stands somewhat awkwardly in the space between the door and the desk; he doesn’t know it, but it’s the same kind of out-of-place stance that made him first notice Sean. “I just wanted to call by and say thanks for coming to the funeral - it meant a lot. Ian’s work was always very important to him.”
Sean smiled sadly. “I know it was; he was so dedicated to the theatre. It’s nice of you to drop by.” He clears his throat, and looks Elijah right in the eyes in a way that makes Elijah’s heart thump a little faster. Sean really is good-looking, and there’s something about him that attracts Elijah like a needle to a magnet. He’s thrown off enough to miss what Sean says.
“Sorry, what?”
Sean blushes a little. That’s nice. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about? I don’t know if I can give any advice, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
‘No’ is automatically on the tip of Elijah’s tongue. But when he thinks about it, it might actually do him some good to talk to someone. And that someone might as well be a guy he’d like to get to know better anyway.
“That’s kind of you,” he says, giving Sean a smile. “Would you mind listening?”
“Not at all,” Sean says sympathetically. He glances at the clock on the wall. “How about we do it over some lunch?”
The phrasing makes Elijah’s eyes widen, but as Sean doesn’t seem to notice, all he says is, “That sounds good. Thank you.”
***
Sean leads him out of the office and down the street.
“I usually eat in here,” he says, pausing outside a small sandwich and coffee bar. “But if there’s anywhere else you’d like to go...”
“Here’s fine,” Elijah says, with a quick smile.
They go in, and choose a table and a sandwich. They wait in silence until lunch arrives; perversely, they both feel more comfortable talking with food in front of them. It takes them a while to get started, but Elijah finds that it does help to talk to someone who’s willing to sit still and not keep interrupting. He tells Sean, unprompted, about being adopted at the age of ten by Ian, how close they became, how he was always frightened that Ian would die before Elijah was grown up and he’d have to go back to the orphanage, about Ian’s long battle with cancer, how his death was almost a relief. By the time he’s finished, his throat hurts with the size of the lump in it and his eyes are itching with the deadly combination of unspilled tears and contact lenses.
Sean is watching him closely. Elijah forces a watery smile, but he can’t hold it.
“I’m sorry,” Sean says finally, and reaches across the table to rest his left hand on top of Elijah’s right. The words are simple, but with the gesture and the honesty in Sean’s eyes it makes Elijah’s heart skip a beat, even though sex is the last thing on his mind right now.
“Thanks for listening,” he says, and gives Sean’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go.
***
There’s a knock at the door.
“Just a moment!” Elijah calls hastily. He’s sitting in the bath, chest deep in hot water and lavender-scented bubbles - it helps him sleep these days. He gets out, wraps a towel round his waist, and goes to the door.
Sean is standing on the step, with a parcel in one hand.
“Oh,” he says, going brilliantly red shockingly quickly. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, no!” Elijah can feel his own cheeks heating up with a fervent blush. “Come on in - er, let me just go put something on. Have a seat.” He practically runs for the bedroom, leaving Sean to perch awkwardly on the edge of the sofa.
Elijah fumbled for underwear, behind the safety of a closed door, trying to will away the blush. What was Sean doing here at this time of night? He manages to pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and pads out to Sean barefooted.
“Sorry about that,” he says shyly.
Sean waves it away - his face is still red. “It’s my fault, I should have called ahead.” He passes Elijah the parcel. “I just thought I’d call round and see how you were doing. And I - I brought you some tea.”
Elijah, slightly amused, opens the parcel, to find a box of Earl Grey teabags.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll put the kettle on then.”
He goes through into the kitchen. Sean follows, and watches awkwardly as Elijah makes two cups of tea.
“Earl Grey makes me feel better, when I’m low,” Sean volunteers, wrapping his hands around his own mug. “I just thought it might help.”
“Thanks,” Elijah says, and takes a sip. He hides a grimace - he’s not a big fan of tea, and would probably have added two or three sugars if Sean hadn’t been watching him. “It’s a nice thought.”
“So, how are you doing?”
Elijah ponders it. “I’m doing OK. Of course there’s grief, but I suppose it’s that way with everyone who loses a parent.” He gives Sean a smile, as if to assure him that he’ll be fine with time, and takes another sip of the tea.
Sean nods, and fidgets with the spoon that Elijah used to stir the tea.
“I sort of called round to...” Sean says suddenly, but then trails off, blushing.
“To what?” Elijah asks, frowning slightly.
Sean looks up to meet Elijah’s eyes.
“I think you’re really lovely,” he says nervously. “I know you’re really preoccupied at the moment and that you’re probably not looking for any sort of...relationship. But...well, I think I really like you, and maybe...maybe when you’re feeling a bit better, we could...go for dinner sometime?”
Elijah’s heart, which has been steadily speeding up as Sean speaks, jumps.
“Well,” he says, choosing his words quite carefully, “I can’t imagine anything that would make me feel better than having dinner with you sometime.” He puts his cup down and moves a little closer to Sean. “Actually, I think being in a relationship right now would be good for me. I really like you too, Sean.”
Sean smiles, sudden warmth shining through his eyes.
“Do we have a date, then?” he asks, his mouth now inches away from Elijah’s.
Elijah closes the gap. The kiss isn’t long, or deep, but it’s everything Elijah ever wanted a first kiss to be.
“We certainly do,” he whispers, once they pull away.
***
They go out for dinner later that week. The evening continues with coffee at Elijah’s house and long talks well into the early morning. They move to Elijah’s bed at around half three.
The sex isn’t technically perfect - there’s awkward fumblings, and the occasional whispered apology into the dark. But it all just makes Elijah love Sean even more. Sean goes on top, and he has a certain way of caressing Elijah’s cheeks and forehead, pushing back hair that gradually soaks with sweat, that makes Elijah hotter and harder than he’s ever been before. Sean’s hands, large and cool, somehow sense instinctively where to touch and stroke that spends sparks right through Elijah. And then there’s Sean’s cock as well, which feels more right inside Elijah than any other ever has.
They lie together afterwards, the silence in the bedroom only broken by two different breaths. Sean keeps one hand resting on the bone of Elijah’s left hip as if to anchor him. Elijah can’t stop smiling.
“You OK?” Sean asks eventually.
Elijah turns slightly on the axis of the hip that Sean is now fanning his fingers over slowly.
“More OK than I’ve been in a long time,” he says, and leans in for another kiss before letting his eyes slip shut.