Realistic Chapter 11
And we're finally getting closer to the end of this story ;)
Title: Realistic - Chapter 11/14
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the amazing lisabellex <3
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
“We’re going to be late.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
Elijah had been completely dressed and ready to go by the time Orlando had exited the shower. He had made sure that their bags were packed and waiting by the door. He had ensured that their suits for the wedding were carefully laid over the suitcases and had placed the flight tickets on top of all of it.
Tara had booked them an early morning flight and chartered a car to come fetch them, and because it is earlier than Orli ever rises, Elijah had planned everything purposefully. He had even managed to rouse Orlando an hour ahead of schedule but Orlando… always has a way of fucking with time.
Elijah knows he is partly to blame. He hadn’t made things difficult. He hadn’t said 'no'. Orlando had merely had to walk to the foot of the bed where he was sitting, waiting patiently with his hands in his lap, and push his knees apart.
They might have even stayed on schedule if he hadn’t made the mistake of looking up.
It had been the low slung towel pinched in one hand to keep it in place. It had been the naked, still damp skin. It had been the dark ringlets dripping water like rain down Orlando’s body. Each on its own would have been an unfair temptation, but together … irresistible. He hadn’t been able to not look and he hadn’t been able to not want.
He’d tried to control himself. There’s a schedule to be kept. Tara will kill us.
“Clothes are on the bed, Orli,” he’d whispered and tried to slide away. Orlando had stopped him, though, with one hand on each thigh and a gentle pressure; with his legs parted and held down, all he’d been able to do was wait for Orlando to let him go.
“These are nice. Are they new?” Orlando had asked coyly, his hands sliding over the material.
“Yes. You told me to, remember? Because I didn’t have any dress clothes, other than the suit and -"
“Oh, yeah. Right. Well they're very nice."
Orlando's appreciation of them had lasted for all of two seconds before his fingers had popped the button and unzipped the fly.
And now Orlando is on his knees and Elijah’s standing at the foot of the bed with his new black trousers in a puddle around his feet. Getting wrinkled, he thinks, but then Orli’s using his teeth, just a little, just enough to make him push up on his toes and moan.
They have a car due to arrive any second, and Orlando’s fist is wrapped around him, working in tandem with the wicked, unhurried suck of his mouth. Suddenly Elijah doesn’t care any more. He pushes Orlando off with the palm of his hand.
“Lijah,” Orlando protests, “it’s okay, we’ve got time."
They don’t, really, but it’s ceased to matter.
“Don’t care,” Elijah pants and bends to kiss Orli’s slick lips, “want you to fuck me.”
Orli growls his agreement. There is a wicked grin on his lips as he stands and helps Elijah out of the rest of his clothing.
“Now it really is going to be your fault if we’re late,” Orli teases as they move onto the bed.
Elijah curls one arm under the pillow beneath his head, the other he uses to yank insistently on Orlando’s hip, his wordless command for harder, faster. He is no longer concerned with catching a flight, only the urgent demands of his body.
Orlando chuckles. "Impatient," he chides.
"Yes," Elijah sighs as he feels slick fingers rub against him, preparing him. "Hurry."
Elijah buries his face in the pillow as the blunt head of Orlando's cock presses into him. He spread his knees wider, giving Orlando’s long fingers access to his cock. They shift together and apart, perfectly aware of what the other wants. It’s fast and furious, all need and desire.
Orlando stops. Elijah feels the full-body shiver that comes on the heels of Orlando's release, the claiming press of Orlando’s fingertips into his hips to still him. But Elijah is still aching. He moans Orlando's name as he impales himself, bringing Orlando back to him with a grunt.
Orlando whispers an apology, but all Elijah needs is the fingers that begin to move frantically over his cock, a jerky push and pull that sweetens the ache. Orlando cants his hips, pushing his softening cock deeper, it rubs him just the right way, at just the right time and he comes all over the bedding and Orli's hand.
“Mmm, that was worth being late for.” Elijah feels Orlando's words buzz against his skin.
“That’s … Yeah," Elijah agrees as he kneels limply for a moment. It's a moment they can't spare though. "I need to clean this up.”
“No time, Lij. The car is going to be here any minute.”
That is a fact, yet neither of them moves. Orlando is folded over him and he can feel, more than hear, Orlando’s whispered 'I love you' in the brush of lips against his skin.
“I love you too, Orli, but Tara’s going to kill us if we miss that flight.”
Orlando groans sleepily. “Right, right. You’re right.”
Elijah smiles. "You're not moving."
"I'm not?"
"No. You have to move now. Get up."
Orlando makes a protesting sound but does, finally, let him up.
Somehow Elijah manages to re-dress, keep Orlando from dawdling, and get them both downstairs with their bags by the time the car buzzes at the gate. As it pulls up the drive Elijah manages to clean up the bedding as best he can and say goodbye to the fish.
*
The flight arrives in Bangor, Maine on time and Tara and Ron are there to pick them up.
“It’s so good to see you!” Tara squeals as she runs up to them in the terminal, covering them both in happy kisses.
“Are you ready for this, Tara?” Elijah asks, laughing as she gives him yet another hug and kiss.
“Wait until you see this place! It’s so beautiful. Just what I wanted. It’s going to be even better than I imagined with the tent and the wildflowers and oh, wait until you see the view!"
"Take a breath, honey," Ron laughs. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head good-naturedly as she prattles on. Her excited chatter accompanies them through baggage claim and out to the rental car.
“You two are the last to arrive," she tells them as they cross the parking lot. "Well, except for my uncle Paul. He had business to attend and will probably be flitting in on his private jet just before the ceremony. How come you don’t have your own jet, Orli? You’re rich.” Elijah tries not to laugh at how wired Tara appears. It almost seems that she’s not breathing she’s so wired. “We drove down special just to pick you up.”
“Honey, the caterers paid me just to make sure you left for awhile.”
Tara swats her fiancé playfully on the shoulder. “I was so going to kill you two if you didn’t make this flight! We have an hour drive from here, yet.”
“We know,” Orli replies with a smirking smile. She has told them this at least three times. Ron gives them both a ‘sorry, I tried’ look before he climbs into the driver's seat.
Elijah slips in the back door and Orlando settles beside him.
“Paul is the one who offered to pay for your wedding?” Elijah asks to confirm once they’re buckled in. He only has one source for the name, she’d said to a sales clerk in the third bridal shop they'd been to, when the consultant asked her budget Tara had replied ‘money’s no object because my uncle Paul is paying’. There was no chance for him to inquire any further after that for the rest of the afternoon was taken up with Tara asking his opinion of dress after dress until, even with his photographic memory, they all began to look the same.
"Yes," Tara sighs. She glances over the seat at them, shaking her head. “Fucking family. It’s such a mess. You should both be glad you don’t-" Tara’s cheeks turn pink and her eyes go wide.
“And that would be the sound of my wife-to-be’s foot lodging firmly in her mouth,” Ron says looking over at her.
She looks absolutely mortified. “I’m so sorry guys. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s all right, Tara,” Orli soothes with a soft smile. "I know you."
She returns it with an embarrassed, apologetic smile of her own. “Family can just be a pain in the ass. There’s usually one nutter in the bunch and that one turned out to be my mom.”
Tara turns to fiddle with the air conditioning, cranking it up, before turning back to them. “When she was young, and just after she met my dad, she got into religion big time. I guess she couldn’t abide how the rest of my family lived - they didn't go to church, they cursed and drank and what not. She and my dad basically picked up, moved to Vermont, and severed all ties with their families. Her crazy is what drove me out. I had to get away from her." She smiles another apologetic smile and Elijah can see, from the way Ron reaches out and rubs her shoulder, that it must bother her, even as it makes her angry.
“So, anyway, Paul is my mom’s older brother. She never mentioned him to me or my sisters; in fact all I remember her telling me when I was little was that the rest of her family was dead.” Tara plays with her necklace. “They were dead to her, I guess. I didn’t know about him until a year ago. One day I get this call from my sister, Heather, and she asks me if I knew that we had an uncle. Of course I didn’t, but apparently she’d gotten a call from some detective service. He’d been searching for our mother and the investigator found us. That was so weird."
"How come you didn't tell me?" Orlando wonders.
"You were busy on a promo jag. And it was just … weird. I didn't know what would come of it or anything. Mom wouldn’t take his call but we did." Tara pauses to take sip of water from the opened bottle sitting in the console. “He’s some rich money guy. I wished I would’ve known him when I first moved to California. I wouldn’t have had to rely on the charity of strangers, but that’s irony for you.”
"It wasn't charity." Orlando smiles.
Tara laughs. “Yeah, you made me work my butt off." She winks at Orli. "Turns out he’s a really nice guy, happy to be in touch with us too. He never married or had a family of his own. It’s sad but,” she makes a move as if to bite her thumb but pauses, a little grin sneaking on to her face, “it’s also really good for us girls. He’s setting up trust funds for my nieces and nephew and when I mentioned that I was getting married, well, he offered to pay for everything. I told him no, of course, but he said that he was planning on gifting us all and really wanted to help.”
“She feels guilty, if you can’t tell,” Ron adds dryly; then with a little grin, “Just not that guilty.”
She swats Ron again. “Oh, stop.”
“He’s like a fairy-god-uncle,” Ron falsettos.
“He’s a good guy! He just wants to be involved!”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, honey,” Ron returns.
“We couldn’t have had this huge wedding without him.”
“I would’ve paid,” Orlando protests. “I offered.”
Tara just shakes her head. “I know you did, sweetie, but I wasn’t going to take your money.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” she returns, which, in Elijah’s opinion, is not a very clear answer.
“Tara,” Orlando presses; apparently her answer doesn’t suit him either.
“Awww come on, Orli.” Her eyes soften and she gives him a heartfelt look. “You took care of me way more than you had to over the years. It was time my own family did something. That’s why I accepted his offer. That, and he really wanted to do something for me, you know?”
Orlando acknowledges this with a nod.
“I’m really glad you’re here though.” She brightens and worms around to face them fully. “I can’t wait for you to finally meet my sisters, and my nieces and nephew. You know that you’re as important to me as they are, right?”
A grin splits Orlando's face, but Elijah notices there is something more there too, something that adds a liquid sparkle to Orli’s eyes. It is one of those tricky emotional responses but he can tell it is a good thing and sometimes people cry when they’re happiest. Perhaps it’s just that. Perhaps it’s the thought of being family when you have none. He wonders if Orli is thinking about his mother.
“You too, Elijah,” Tara adds with that same happy grin. “Just think, now you’ll get to see what all your hard work has been for.”
Ron clears his throat and Elijah looks up, catching Ron’s eyes in the rearview briefly. “I just wanted to say thanks. Tara really appreciated your help and so did I. More than you’ll ever know.”
In this case Ron’s gratitude is easy to see and Elijah smiles. “It was fine. I really liked tasting the cakes.”
"All that and tasting the cakes was your favorite part?" Tara pooches out her bottom lip. When Ron and Orlando break out into laughter she sticks out her tongue at them.
"I've got an idea," Ron suggest, "how about we talk about something other than the wedding for a little bit." He gives Tara a big, cheesy smile.
She snorts at him but turns the topic to Orlando's new movie release, more particularly to how angry the movie company is at the fact that he refused do the press junket.
“My name is going to be on all the lists,” Orlando laments teasingly.
“The blacklists,” she agrees, making finger quotes. When they stop laughing Tara turns serious. “You really don’t care, do you?”
Orli shakes his head. “No."
"Because of Veronica?"
"Because I didn't want to have to be on the road for a month."
Elijah thinks he should probably feel guilty, Orlando stayed home for him, but he doesn't.
"I don't know whether you're killing the speculation or exacerbating it," she muses. "I haven't had time to check the gossip blogs."
Orlando smirks. “I’m much happier not having anywhere to go. Other than here, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” She gives him a knowing smile in return. “I’m sure you just appreciated the hell out of getting up at four this morning to catch a flight to my wedding.”
Orlando makes a face. “Is that what time it was?”
“Should’ve been. You had to catch a flight by six. If not for Elijah I know you would’ve overslept and missed the flight, but I knew I could count on him.”
Orlando nods. “He's very trustworthy. He also made getting up very worthwhile.”
"Oh, really," Tara drawls.
Elijah feels his face heat under her cheeky gaze and he turns to take in the scenery flying past, but it’s all trees.
“Tara?" He turns at the sound of Orlando's voice. "I wanted to give this to you now. To make sure it didn’t get lost in the shuffle.” Orlando hands her a simple white envelope.
“What’s this?” She peeks at him as she accepts it.
“Just a little something for the both of you.”
“Oooh, can I open it?” She has the look of a kid a Christmas and Orlando plagues her by squinching up his face.
"Isn't there some rule about bad luck if you open gifts before the wedding?"
She rolls her eyes at him. "No, that's seeing the bride in her wedding dress."
"Oh, well, okay then."
Elijah wonders what it is, Orli didn’t ask for his help with this one. He watches as she carefully opens the envelope and can pulls out a delicately embossed wedding card.
Tara smiles as she reads the verse on the front and then Elijah sees her eyes widen. He glances at Orli but he is watching Tara.
“Orli…” Tara is at a loss for words and that really piques Elijah's curiosity.
He isn't the only curious one, Ron glances at her, trying to figure out what is going on. “Honey?”
“This is too much,” she whispers. She closes the card and tries to pass it back over the seat to Orli.
Orlando simply looks at it, then at her, and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s yours.”
“It’s too much! What are you, crazy?” She flaps the envelope at him. “We can’t accept this.”
“If you don’t want it then donate it to charity, because it’s yours.”
“What- what is it, honey?” Ron tries again, clearly intrigued.
“I can’t show this to you while you’re driving you’ll run us off the road,” she tells him as she opens the card and stares at the contents again. “Orli-“
“I want you to be able to live the life you always wanted, Tara.”
Elijah notes that there are tears in her eyes and they spill on to her cheeks when she looks up.
“You deserve it. You kept me in line all those years. “
“It wasn’t that difficult a job, Orli." She brushes at the tears but more spill in their place. "This is too much.”
“Meant a lot to me,” Orlando confesses. “You mean a lot to me.”
Elijah feels Orlando’s hand slide inside his and Elijah squeezes instinctively; it’s a small measure of support for whatever this is.
“You realize that this means I quit, right?” She is laughing and crying now.
“What is it?” Ron asks as he cranes his head to look.
“It’s - Maybe you should pull over."
"Just tell me." Ron's eyes look like they're about to bug out of his head.
"It's ten million dollars.”
Elijah clutches the armrest when the car jerks sharply to the left.
“Ron! Jesus!” Tara yells.
“It’s what? I don’t think I heard-“ Ron’s eyes are back on the road and the car is headed in a relatively straight, not-going-to-crash-in-to-a-ditch, direction.
“Ten. Million. Dollars,” Tara enunciates each word carefully.
"No way." Ron reaches for the card.
"Believe me, it is."
Ron flicks a look of disbelief over his shoulder at Orlando.
“Congratulations,” Orlando says sheepishly.
“Ron! Pull over if you need to but don’t freaking kill us all, okay?” Tara cries.
Ron jerks the car out of the passing lane and slows appreciably. "You're shitting me, right? Right?"
"No, she's right," Orlando verifies.
“Orli, man, we can’t take this. We can’t accept that.” Elijah can see that Ron is gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white.
“Listen, both of you, I have it to give. I want to give it to you. It’s not like I have family to share it with. You are my family. It's not like I can take it with me when I -“
“Orli!” Tara protests. “Be serious, would you?”
“I am. I had my bank do the transfer. It’s already in your account. I didn’t want you to think it was a bank error or something.”
“Orli, this is just insane.” Tara looks at him helplessly.
“Tara,” Orlando’s voice has taken on a pleading tone, “just take it. Enjoy it. Build a wonderful life with it. You did so much for me and I want to do this for you."
“Orli, I really didn’t do anything.”
“You’re my friend; that’s everything.”
Elijah knows by the set of Orlando’s jaw there’s no argument that can be waged and won here. It seems that Tara knows that too. She slumps against the passenger door and looks back at Orlando through the gap, there are tears still shimmering in her eyes and her bottom lip is quivering.
“Thank you,” she mouths.
“You’re welcome.”
“All you're going to get is some crappy thank-you note in the mail." She turns to root for something in the glove box.
"You don't have to thank me."
Tara gives him a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “We’ll have to think of something really special.” She finds a paper napkin and presses it to her nose.
"I don’t know anything that’s going to top this." Ron glances at Orli in the rearview mirror.
“You could always name your first born after us,” Orlando teases.
Tara’s brows rise comically. "Who says we're having kids."
"You did," Orlando counters with a grin. "You want twins, a boy and a girl so you can get it over with all at once."
"So you do listen to me."
"Always."
"Well," she drawls thoughtfully, "I’d name him after Elijah, but Orlando?” She makes an uncertain face.
“Why not?” Orlando acts wounded.
“Orlando Olivetti?”
“Sounds Italian,” Elijah muses, and he is pleased when they all laugh.
They are still laughing about the name issue, though now it revolves around the likelihood of the poor child getting saddled with the nickname 'Spaghettio" at school, as they pull into the long winding drive to the old farmhouse where the wedding will be held.
Elijah steps out of the rental and tries to take it all in. The house itself sits high on a hill on a swathe of green grass. Before him it slopes away to the road they just traveled and below that he can see the ocean. It is not a wide-open expanse as he had imagined, but a series of small islands: dots of tree-covered rock, really. The fog rolling in obscures what lies beyond, but that only lends a little air of mystery to the place, seeming to cut it off from the rest of the world.
A huge white tent has been erected on the large side lawn, ready and waiting for the celebration to come. He can see now why she chose to travel so far.
Tara leads them into the farmhouse, which is bustling with activity. It is crowded; there are some familiar faces from the engagement party, but many, many strangers. Tara shouts a promise, over the din, to introduce everyone in a minute, then leads them up a narrow staircase to a small bedroom.
“I know it’s not the Iaole Hyatt," she says, pulling her lip between her teeth, "but it has its charm.”
“Is 'charm' another word for 'small'?” Orlando asks with a grin.
“No, it’s another word for antique.”
Orlando tosses his suitcase on top of the bed and they hear the bedsprings protest loudly.
Tara blushes and grins. “The owners like to keep things, er, authentic.”
The three of them stare at the double bed, the small, noisy double bed, and laugh.
“And, um, just so you know,” Tara blushes furiously, and tries to hide her grin by biting her bottom lip, but fails the moment she opens her mouth to speak, “my sister and her two little girls are on one side of you and Ron’s grandma is on the other side.”
“And you wouldn't let me rent a room in Bangor,” Orli muses sadly.
"That is just too far away. This way you can be with all of us!" She beams a hopeful smile at him.
"You're lucky I love you, Tara," Orlando says with a shake of his head.
"I know," she replies cheekily. "Now, come downstairs and I'll introduce you."
*
That night there is a small dinner on a private beach. There is a bonfire, fresh lobster, corn and plenty of beer and wine. It is a very casual affair with the food on red-checkered covered picnic tables, industrial strength paper plates, and a brilliant red sunset as the backdrop.
Elijah enjoys it immensely. The lobster is almost decadently sweet, but it is the melted butter he develops a true fondness for. He looks up and catches Orli watching him as he soaks a small chunk of lobster in the little ramekin of butter.
"Would you like some lobster with that butter?" Orli teases.
"No, I prefer my butter plain," Elijah smirks back.
And after dinner, and a rush of cleaning up, during which many hands make light work, Tara’s cousin brings out a guitar and starts to play. Tara’s sister, Heather, can really sing and at first they leave her to belt out standards until others, who’ve finally had enough wine or beer, join in too. Elijah listens with a smile on his face and his eyes on the surf and newly peeping stars.
It cools off quickly once the sun sets, but he doesn't feel it wrapped up in Orlando’s arms and the enjoyment of the moment. He’s never been to anything like this before, where it is all about friends, family, love and merriment, and for once Elijah feels like he’s really part of it. This is one of the most beautiful nights he has ever experienced.
Tara’s friends try to get them to sing and one of Ron’s uncles from New Jersey keeps trying to get Orlando to eat another of his famous pickled eggs, 'Cause they’re good with beer', but Orlando politely waves him off.
"Having a good time?" Orlando asks in a low voice.
"Yes." If only Orlando could understand the depth behind that one word answer.
The revelry carries on late into the night, which is fine then, but causes a blatant snag in the program for the carefully scheduled wedding day. Even Tara is running behind, but is, thankfully, too foggy to get properly worked up over it.
Elijah steps in to help while she lingers with a coffee and hangover remedy. He directs the caterers and the florists and arriving guests like a professional. It is easy for him as he is not, according to a colorful phrase Ron's uncle used, one of the 'walking wounded' and he has been privy to all her plans.
He puts Orlando in charge of making sure Ron and the best man, neither of whom made it to the breakfast table, arrive at the tent on time for the ceremony. It’s a good thing it’s a late afternoon wedding, or it never would have happened on time.
Despite all of the self-created obstacles, and a strong gust of wind that nearly proves fatal to the wedding cake, everything appears ready by the appointed hour.
“You know what that suit does to me,” Orlando purrs in Elijah’s ear as he slips into the seat beside him.
Elijah smiles, but doesn't reply. All they are waiting for now is the music to start and Tara to walk down the aisle.
There is a flick of wet tongue against the curve of his ear and Elijah elbows Orlando subtly. They are surrounded by Tara's family.
Orlando leans in as if to whisper something more and gives his earlobe a gentle little suck. It is something he has a great weakness for and he is sure he is blushing more than the bride as she makes her way down the aisle.
*
By the time the ceremony is over and they enter the tent to eat and drink, those who were suffering from the after-effects of last night’s revelries seem to be having their second wind. Tara has seated Orlando and Elijah with her sisters, Heidi and Heather, near the head table and Orlando is busy entertaining her nephew, Sam. Elijah watches Orlando lift the little boy, who is giggling delightedly and dangling like a monkey from Orlando’s arm.
Elijah has little experience with children, but he loves to watch them. He is taken by the way they find the simplest things amusing and finds their laughter infectious.
“Lift me again, Orli, pleeeaaze,” Sam implores, trying to hang from Orlando's arm and almost certainly getting grass stains on the knees of his slacks.
“Stop, Sam. You’re going to wear him out,” Heidi scolds. She gives Orlando an apologetic look. "Come on, I'll get you some cheese." Cheese seems to trump being hoisted into the air and the little boy scampers off at his mother's side.
Orlando sinks into his seat and blows an errant lock from the middle of his forehead. Then he grins wickedly at Elijah, for, where Orlando had only one, Elijah has two little ones enamored of him. Heather’s daughters are aged three and four, and seem to find him quite charming, despite the fact that he has no idea why, or what he should be doing.
Heather asked if he wouldn't mind watching them for just a moment while she dashed off to the bathroom. She’s left him with only the one instruction: that he makes sure they do not put anything into their mouths. Sabine, the four year old, doesn’t seem to have an issue, but Chloe has made several attempts to put every object on the table into her mouth.
He never knew that a child so small could seem to have four arms at once, and after realizing that he couldn’t take his eyes off her for a second, not even to look at the little book Sabine has been begging him to read, he finally pushed his seat back from the table and is currently letting her fiddle with his tie.
Elijah is relieved when Heather returns. He marvels at her ability to keep Chloe occupied while managing to feed Sabine some grapes and still manage to carry on a conversation with Heidi.
*
After dinner, the circular tables are pulled back and Elijah looks at the square of room they’ve made.
“What happens now?” Elijah asks. "Is it over?"
"Oh, no," Heather laughs. "This party is just beginning. You've never been to a wedding before?"
Elijah shakes his head. She pats his arm sympathetically. "Well, first there are going to be some traditional dances but then we all get to party."
Orlando groans.
Elijah turns to him uncertainly. “Is that a bad thing?” When Orlando laughs he asks, “What?”
“Nothing." Orlando shakes his head.
"What's the matter?" Heather teases. "Afraid of a little dancing?"
Orlando laughs. "Not afraid of it, I just don't do it. Two left feet, you know.”
"You guys are all the same," she tsks. "Believe me, if I drag you out there you'll dance." At that moment she notices Chloe wandering away and dashes after her.
“You won't dance even for me?” Elijah asks.
“Don’t make this hard on me, please?" Orlando pleads. "Spare yourself the humiliation, yeah? Besides I don’t need someone to catch my flailing and leak the footage to Access Entertainment. They’d probably say I was having a seizure or something.”
“Hi boys!” Tara’s bright voice prevents Elijah’s attempt to tease, or plead, he’s not entirely sure which. They both stand to greet her, and the older gentleman whose arm she’s holding.
He is perhaps fifty, very distinguished looking with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
“This is my long lost uncle, Paul, the one I told you about. I’m sorry I didn’t get to introduce you all earlier.”
“Well, you were a little busy my dear.” Paul smiles at her and pats her hand.
"And you were a little late," she adds with a smile.
He ducks his head in a sheepish fashion and agrees with her. "Yes, yes. If I’d made it in yesterday as planned, today wouldn’t be such a rush. But business calls.”
She introduces Orlando.
“Pleasure to finally meet you.” Paul gives Orlando a brusque handshake. “Tara has had nothing but nice things to say about you.”
"And you," Orli replies.
Elijah expects to be ignored, has even taken a step back as is proper, but Paul turns assessing eyes on him. “And you must be Elijah.”
Elijah reaches out to the hand that is offered, slightly surprised that Paul would know his name. “Tara tells me she quite enjoys your company and you've been a huge help to her.”
A smile blossoms across his face at the thought that Tara actually mentioned him but it falters at the feel of Paul's touch. It is not a simple, quick, nice-to-meet-you handshake. Paul’s right hand hold his while the left slides far too intimately over the back of his hand, to his wrist, where it lingers. He doesn’t miss, and certainly doesn’t like, the lingering, perusing look Paul gives him.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Elijah manages politely. Paul makes him feel like he is back at one of Karl’s parties.
The DJ announces something that elicits a bit of an excited squeal from Tara; it draws Paul’s attention and Elijah takes the opportunity to retrieve his hand. He wipes it surreptitiously on his pants leg.
“Come on Elijah, come dance with the bride!”
Elijah doesn't argue, grateful that she wants to drag him away. He wants nothing more than to put some distance between himself and Tara’s uncle even if he doesn't necessarily feel like trying to dance now, either.
“Tara told me he's one of those Realistics, right?” Elijah catches just the wisp of Paul's query as Tara draws him forward. “I was thinking of getting one for myself."
Elijah strains to hear more but loses their conversation in the loud thump of music and Tara urging him to 'Shake it, baby, shake it!'
*
Elijah dances three songs, which is roughly the time it takes for Paul to drift away and Tara’s attention to be diverted long enough for him to make a clean escape.
“You were looking good out there.” Orlando tells him as he drops into the chair by his side.
“I like dancing," Elijah admits. "Are you going to dance with me?”
Orlando shakes his head vehemently. “No way. Two left feet.”
“Please,” Elijah pleads.
Orlando says nothing, just tilts his head and looks at him.
“What?”
“You’re just beautiful. That’s all. I can’t help but stare.”
Elijah blushes. “That’s a cheap distraction.”
“Works though,” Orlando replies with a cheeky smile.
“What did Tara’s uncle say?” he asks when he's sure there is no one in earshot.
Orlando shrugs. “Nothing much. We just chatted.”
“But he asked about me?”
“He asked about Realistics, yeah,” Orlando admits and the smile begins to fade. "Don't worry about it, okay? He was just curious."
"Excuse me." The tentative interruption comes from a young, teenage girl. "I was wondering if I …" she holds a pen and a napkin hopefully in Orlando's direction.
Orlando agrees graciously and spends some time answering her questions about the new movie. Elijah glances around, dusk is falling and he watches as many strands of twinkle lights are turned on and candles lit on the tables.
He catches Paul staring at him and wishes he could shrink away. There are two types of curiosity and he knows this kind all too well. He is grateful when Heather and her girls return for drinks of water and to finish their slices of wedding cake.
*
Elijah is telling Heather about his fish tank when Paul slips into the seat across the table.
“You should see the aquarium he has assembled,” Orlando supplies helpfully when Elijah lets the conversation linger.
“Really?” Paul sounds utterly intrigued by this and Elijah shifts uncomfortably.
“What is your favorite thing about it?” Paul inquires in the same indulgent tone Elijah has heard people use with small children.
“The fish,” he answers bluntly. He knows his tone could be considered rude but he wants to keep their interaction short.
“That’s all?” Paul presses.
“I like the model pirate ship I built, and my replica of the lost city of Atlantis.”
“Really?” Paul strokes his chin, there is an amused smile on his face. “You like pirates?”
“I like that I built it myself.”
“Did you build Atlantis too?”
Elijah shakes his head. “That was already preassembled.”
“Why Atlantis?”
Elijah shrugs. “Because it’s a mystery. Because it’s full of secrets.” He can identify with it.
“And you like that? That it’s all mysterious?” Paul’s grinning at him like he’s a puppy that’s just performed a trick.
"Yes."
“Fascinating,” Paul breathes. “I'm absolutely amazed. You came up with this all on your own?”
"What do you mean?" Elijah wonders.
"You just decided that you liked fish? Orlando didn't tell you to get them?"
When Elijah shakes his head in reply he can see the interest spark in Paul's eyes.
"I have two friends with Realistics," Paul speaks pointedly to Orlando, "and from a distance, no, even up close, they look real. But the moment they opened their mouths it broke the illusion. They are so robotic. Kinda creeped me out. But this one here…" Paul's eyes are on him again, "seems so real. Was it like this when you got it or did you have to work with it? Or maybe it’s some black market programming?”
“Uncle Paul!” Heather hisses and Elijah can see the color’s up on her cheeks. "What are you doing?" It is obvious that his being a Realistic is no surprise to Heather but she looks mortified and a little angry all the same.
"I'm just asking a question," Paul brushes her off. It's obvious he is not used to being called on his words or actions.
“If you don’t mind, Paul, I’d rather not discuss this,” Orlando replies politely.
“Oh. Really?” Paul sounds disappointed. “I didn’t mean any offense.” But there is no ring of truth to that apology, just irritation. He is obviously not used to being told when to keep his nose out of where it doesn’t belong.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Orlando returns pleasantly but it is clear that is the end of the conversation.
The muscle in Paul’s jaw flexes agitatedly for a moment or two. Elijah catches the hungry look in Paul’s eye but it is only a flicker then gone.
“Anyone need anything from the bar?” Paul offers as he rises.
The three of them shake their heads and Paul excuses himself.
“Jesus,” Heather sighs, “I’m really sorry about that. I thought he would turn out to be the normal one."
Orlando grins at her. “You and Tara are so much alike.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” She says with a wink and stands. “I think I do need something from the bar after all. Something to calm me down. You want anything?”
Neither of them do and she wanders off to the bar, leaving them alone.
Orli slips closer and Elijah feels Orlando’s hand on the nape of his neck, Orlando strokes the soft hairs with his thumb. Elijah looks over at him apologetically.
“We make quite a pair don’t we? Attracting all the goods ones, yeah?” Orlando’s smile is soft, and a little melancholy.
“Think we’d be used to it by now.” Elijah returns with what he hopes is a lighthearted smile.
Orlando’s murmured ‘yeah’ and low chuckle are barely audible over the loud music. "I can't blame him for being fascinated by you."
Elijah doesn't admit how uncomfortable it makes him. It doesn't matter really. Paul can't have him.
“Uh-oh. Here comes your dance partner,” Orlando warns with a snicker.
“Elijahhh!” Tara trills. Her arms loop around him, pushing Orlando's away, and she hugs him tight. “Come on, Lij. Come dance with me!”
Elijah looks imploringly at Orlando but Orlando only grins with brows raised and tucks his arms away as Elijah reaches out to drag him along.
“Sorry. Two left feet,” Orli crows.
“Come on Elijah! We’re going to do the Electric Slide. You’ll love it.” She trips on who knows what and heaves up the heavy dress. He realizes she’s trying to remove her heels but they’re strappy numbers and she can’t do it.
“Wait. Just a sec.” Elijah kneels and fights his way through all the fabric to help her take them off. She hops around happily once she is free.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Orli shouts over the music.
Elijah only grins and lets the shoes fall where they may. He likes to dance.
*
“That is one mean Conga line,” Orlando whispers in his ear.
Elijah looks over his shoulder as the chain easily closes the gap that opened when Orlando snatched him out of line.
“Is that what it’s called?” He wonders as Orlando drags him into a dark corner.
Orlando nods and pulls him even closer, trapping him in the link of his arms.
“It’s fun,” Elijah grins, his hips still gyrating purposefully to the music.
Orlando’s hands on his ass stop him, not that he minds being groped like that but there is something strange about Orlando’s expression, the intense look seems out of place and makes him instantly nervous.
“What is it?” he demands.
“I- I have something I want to tell you.”
“What?” Fear blossoms in Elijah and panic leaves an icy trace across his skin. Please not now. Don’t send me back. Whatever I did… Please.
“Hey! I want my Conga partner back!” Tara shouts teasingly as the line weaves its way by a nearby table.
“In a minute!” Orlando yells back, waving her off. Somehow that makes it worse because it is something that Orlando can’t wait through a song to tell him.
Tara flaps her hands at them. “Fine. Keep to yourselves, young lovers!” She makes a great show of blowing kisses as she dances away, towing the rest of the line behind her.
Elijah waits until the last of them have passed out of earshot then turns with expectant eyes and heavy heart to Orlando. “Just tell me.” The dread makes him cold and he feels like he is freezing from the inside out.
“I don’t know if it’s just the wedding or what, Elijah, but I-“ Orlando pauses. Elijah knows it’s his patented response when there’s something he doesn’t want to say, and in that gap of time Elijah generates a staggering list of possibilities, starting with the obvious - that Orlando has suddenly realized he wants more than a piece of plastic, or a wife and kids - like Sam and Chloe.
“Just say it." He tries desperately to prepare himself, because he doesn’t know what he will do when Orlando finally does.
“I wanted to tell you that you make me very happy.”
“Happy?” Elijah echoes. He hadn’t expected that word. "But?" There must be more. Orlando wouldn't work him up like this just to tell him that he's happy.
“Yeah,” Orlando says softly and ducks his head, the rest spilling out like a confession, “I never thought I’d find someone that I would fall in love with.”
”You still think that you love me?” Elijah blurts.
Orlando’s long fingers move to cup his cheeks, they draw him closer and Orlando places an almost chaste kiss on his lips.
“Yes. I love you. I still love you. I don’t see any end to it.” Orlando pauses for a moment with a hopeful grin on his lips, “I know it hasn’t been easy being with me but I hope you’re happy. Just a little.”
“I am,” Elijah nods. He is just shocked. This isn’t what he had expected; gratefully, it isn’t what he’d prepared for. “I am happy.”
“Good. That’s good.”
But he can see the uncertainty in Orlando’s eyes.
“If I tell you that I love you will you know that I mean it? And not just think that it’s part of my programming?”
“Yes.” Orlando smiles at him and Elijah can see that he means it.
Elijah feels like bursting, that’s the only way to describe it. He buries his fingers in Orlando’s curls and tugs him forward, so close that he can whisper those very words into Orlando’s ear and against his lips.
They cling to each other in the shadows, swaying a little to the music.
“Do you believe in fate, Lij?” Orlando’s head is still bowed and Elijah has to lean back to look in Orlando’s eyes.
“Are you drunk?” Elijah asks half teasing, half not.
“No. I’m serious.”
Orlando presses soft kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, each like a brush of electricity against his skin.
“You do remember that we’re staying at the farmhouse?" Elijah reminds. "That little one? With the creaking bed? Which is right next to the room Tara’s two nieces are staying in?”
“There is always the floor."
Orlando’s husky suggestion drives a spike of hot anticipation through him and he clutches the material of Orlando’s shirt in his hands to keep them from roaming.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Orlando brings him on track. “Do you believe that some things happen for a reason?”
“Everything happens for a reason.” Elijah states with a cluck of his tongue. “It’s physics. Forces are exerted on an object and-"
“No,” Orlando lifts his head and fixes Elijah with a serious look, “I mean like destiny.”
Elijah worries his bottom lip then answers honestly. “No. I don’t.”
“Why not?” Orlando asks his brows knitting together in the way that makes him want to smooth Orlando against bed sheets somewhere and make him forget whatever it is that is bothering him. “You don’t believe that it was fate that night on the bridge?”
"I think that it was a good thing," Elijah replies, "but not fate. You had car trouble, and Three Points was ..." he shrugs. "It was just a random confluence of events -"
Orlando stops him with a kiss. A gentle one.
“I believe in it,” Orlando whispers.
Elijah tries to smile, and fails. “But you’re allowed to.” He hates the way his voice sounds, all sulky and petulant, but it’s true. “It’s different for you. You can make your own choices.”
“You can too, Lij.”
“Only with you, Orli.” Elijah feels a queer constricting inside his chest - hope, fear, anger, love. He is suddenly aware of too much. Someday this will end, Orlando will leave him, and The Company will try once more to transform him into a robot with no hopes and desires other than to please his master. It is in the knowledge that the next one could be another Karl, or Madeline. It is in knowing that the next time he’s got to get the self-termination right, or it is only going to get worse.
Orlando kisses him again; the kind of kiss that is fierce and possessive, and speaks volumes without words.
“I wish you’d believe, Lij. I wish you’d have a little faith. I need you to have faith.”
“Okay,” Elijah says without even knowing why, maybe because Orlando’s so desperate for it.
“You’re a sucky liar,” Orlando admonishes softly as he brushes his lips against Elijah’s again. “So, I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?” Elijah asks warily.
Orlando grins. “I want you to promise to believe me when I say that we are always going to be together.”
“That’s not fair, Orli.” Elijah realizes that Orlando can’t ever understand but it hurts just the same. “I can’t promise you that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
The look on Orlando’s face makes those bands constrict until he’s afraid something inside him will shatter. There is real anguish on Orlando’s face but Elijah finds that he can’t make the promise, even knowing that it would make Orlando feel better.
“ ‘S all right.” Orlando folds him close. “I got you something to remind you anyway.”
“Got me something?” Elijah repeats.
“Mmmhmm. You’re probably going to think that it’s goofy.”
”Is it Christmas socks?”
“What?” Orlando asks through laughter.
“I think your Christmas socks are goofy,” Elijah admits with a smile.
“Well, you have her to thank for those,” Orli nods in Tara’s direction.
Elijah looks over his shoulder and catches sight of Tara and her bridesmaids in the middle of some other ritualistic dance. If he studied it long enough he could probably compare it to his memory stores and identify it; it’s like the electric slide, but different.
Orlando’s fingers gently guide his cheek until he’s staring at Orlando’s palm, or rather the silver ring on Orlando’s palm.
“What’s that?”
“Just a little reminder.”
“It’s a ring.” Elijah blinks at it stupidly. Because it looks familiar.
Orlando is laughing again, Elijah can feel the vibrations of it running through Orlando's body.
“I mean I know it’s a ring but I thought …” It’s the same ring, the one that Orlando had worn home from Iaole when he smelled like Veronica James.
“It’s so you’ll remember. See the design?”
Elijah picks it up and turns the band on its side; it looks like it’s been decorated with a braid, or a bunch of squashed little 8’s, or a symbol.
“You know it," Orlando prompts.
"Infinity,” Elijah answers.
“Infinity on a circle. To me it means one thing: forever.”
Elijah stares at it as if it were a thing of very great weight. Which it is.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not Christmas socks.” Elijah stares at it, loving it and hating it at the same time.
“If I’d have known you’d rather have had socks instead…”
Orlando’s teasing but Elijah can see the hurt in his eyes.
“You wore this home. I thought … I thought Veronica gave this to you.” He knows he should just accept it, be grateful for it, but he can’t if it’s a second hand gift.
“No. Shit," Orlando sighs. "I had it made for you when I was on Halo. I forgot to take it off. I should have known your eagle eyes would spot it, but I thought for sure if you’d seen it you'd ask about it.”
“I didn't want to know what it meant,” Elijah admits truthfully. "I tried to find it after." What he would have done with it when he found it, however, is a mystery, even to him.
“Ah, that explains it."
"Explains what?"
"Why my house was so clean."
“Wh- where was it?” Now he has to know.
“Safety deposit box." Orlando looks at Elijah’s palm where the ring is resting. “Do you hate it?”
“No. No, I like it. Very much. Thank you.” Elijah realizes he is making a mess of things. He slips it on his ring finger. It’s too big.
“I had them size it to fit your thumb, so it wouldn’t be too weird, yeah?”
There it fits perfectly and Elijah spins it slowly around his thumb- forever, infinity, eternity - love. The ring feels strange and heavy on his finger, he has never worn any jewelry before.
"If you don’t like it you don’t have to wear it.”
“No. I really do like it, Orli.” He’s trying to process the whole situation and finding it a little overwhelming.
“You just don’t believe in it, I know.”
If only a ring could allow him to believe. If only it could be that kind of talisman.
“It means that you love me,” Elijah says with a smile. And that’s all that really matters.
“I just wanted you to have something to remind you of my promise.”
"I'll remember," Elijah promises. This is just Orlando’s way, he can't be angry about it. But he wonders how long Orlando’s forever will be.
Tbc …
Title: Realistic - Chapter 11/14
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the amazing lisabellex <3
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
“We’re going to be late.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
Elijah had been completely dressed and ready to go by the time Orlando had exited the shower. He had made sure that their bags were packed and waiting by the door. He had ensured that their suits for the wedding were carefully laid over the suitcases and had placed the flight tickets on top of all of it.
Tara had booked them an early morning flight and chartered a car to come fetch them, and because it is earlier than Orli ever rises, Elijah had planned everything purposefully. He had even managed to rouse Orlando an hour ahead of schedule but Orlando… always has a way of fucking with time.
Elijah knows he is partly to blame. He hadn’t made things difficult. He hadn’t said 'no'. Orlando had merely had to walk to the foot of the bed where he was sitting, waiting patiently with his hands in his lap, and push his knees apart.
They might have even stayed on schedule if he hadn’t made the mistake of looking up.
It had been the low slung towel pinched in one hand to keep it in place. It had been the naked, still damp skin. It had been the dark ringlets dripping water like rain down Orlando’s body. Each on its own would have been an unfair temptation, but together … irresistible. He hadn’t been able to not look and he hadn’t been able to not want.
He’d tried to control himself. There’s a schedule to be kept. Tara will kill us.
“Clothes are on the bed, Orli,” he’d whispered and tried to slide away. Orlando had stopped him, though, with one hand on each thigh and a gentle pressure; with his legs parted and held down, all he’d been able to do was wait for Orlando to let him go.
“These are nice. Are they new?” Orlando had asked coyly, his hands sliding over the material.
“Yes. You told me to, remember? Because I didn’t have any dress clothes, other than the suit and -"
“Oh, yeah. Right. Well they're very nice."
Orlando's appreciation of them had lasted for all of two seconds before his fingers had popped the button and unzipped the fly.
And now Orlando is on his knees and Elijah’s standing at the foot of the bed with his new black trousers in a puddle around his feet. Getting wrinkled, he thinks, but then Orli’s using his teeth, just a little, just enough to make him push up on his toes and moan.
They have a car due to arrive any second, and Orlando’s fist is wrapped around him, working in tandem with the wicked, unhurried suck of his mouth. Suddenly Elijah doesn’t care any more. He pushes Orlando off with the palm of his hand.
“Lijah,” Orlando protests, “it’s okay, we’ve got time."
They don’t, really, but it’s ceased to matter.
“Don’t care,” Elijah pants and bends to kiss Orli’s slick lips, “want you to fuck me.”
Orli growls his agreement. There is a wicked grin on his lips as he stands and helps Elijah out of the rest of his clothing.
“Now it really is going to be your fault if we’re late,” Orli teases as they move onto the bed.
Elijah curls one arm under the pillow beneath his head, the other he uses to yank insistently on Orlando’s hip, his wordless command for harder, faster. He is no longer concerned with catching a flight, only the urgent demands of his body.
Orlando chuckles. "Impatient," he chides.
"Yes," Elijah sighs as he feels slick fingers rub against him, preparing him. "Hurry."
Elijah buries his face in the pillow as the blunt head of Orlando's cock presses into him. He spread his knees wider, giving Orlando’s long fingers access to his cock. They shift together and apart, perfectly aware of what the other wants. It’s fast and furious, all need and desire.
Orlando stops. Elijah feels the full-body shiver that comes on the heels of Orlando's release, the claiming press of Orlando’s fingertips into his hips to still him. But Elijah is still aching. He moans Orlando's name as he impales himself, bringing Orlando back to him with a grunt.
Orlando whispers an apology, but all Elijah needs is the fingers that begin to move frantically over his cock, a jerky push and pull that sweetens the ache. Orlando cants his hips, pushing his softening cock deeper, it rubs him just the right way, at just the right time and he comes all over the bedding and Orli's hand.
“Mmm, that was worth being late for.” Elijah feels Orlando's words buzz against his skin.
“That’s … Yeah," Elijah agrees as he kneels limply for a moment. It's a moment they can't spare though. "I need to clean this up.”
“No time, Lij. The car is going to be here any minute.”
That is a fact, yet neither of them moves. Orlando is folded over him and he can feel, more than hear, Orlando’s whispered 'I love you' in the brush of lips against his skin.
“I love you too, Orli, but Tara’s going to kill us if we miss that flight.”
Orlando groans sleepily. “Right, right. You’re right.”
Elijah smiles. "You're not moving."
"I'm not?"
"No. You have to move now. Get up."
Orlando makes a protesting sound but does, finally, let him up.
Somehow Elijah manages to re-dress, keep Orlando from dawdling, and get them both downstairs with their bags by the time the car buzzes at the gate. As it pulls up the drive Elijah manages to clean up the bedding as best he can and say goodbye to the fish.
*
The flight arrives in Bangor, Maine on time and Tara and Ron are there to pick them up.
“It’s so good to see you!” Tara squeals as she runs up to them in the terminal, covering them both in happy kisses.
“Are you ready for this, Tara?” Elijah asks, laughing as she gives him yet another hug and kiss.
“Wait until you see this place! It’s so beautiful. Just what I wanted. It’s going to be even better than I imagined with the tent and the wildflowers and oh, wait until you see the view!"
"Take a breath, honey," Ron laughs. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head good-naturedly as she prattles on. Her excited chatter accompanies them through baggage claim and out to the rental car.
“You two are the last to arrive," she tells them as they cross the parking lot. "Well, except for my uncle Paul. He had business to attend and will probably be flitting in on his private jet just before the ceremony. How come you don’t have your own jet, Orli? You’re rich.” Elijah tries not to laugh at how wired Tara appears. It almost seems that she’s not breathing she’s so wired. “We drove down special just to pick you up.”
“Honey, the caterers paid me just to make sure you left for awhile.”
Tara swats her fiancé playfully on the shoulder. “I was so going to kill you two if you didn’t make this flight! We have an hour drive from here, yet.”
“We know,” Orli replies with a smirking smile. She has told them this at least three times. Ron gives them both a ‘sorry, I tried’ look before he climbs into the driver's seat.
Elijah slips in the back door and Orlando settles beside him.
“Paul is the one who offered to pay for your wedding?” Elijah asks to confirm once they’re buckled in. He only has one source for the name, she’d said to a sales clerk in the third bridal shop they'd been to, when the consultant asked her budget Tara had replied ‘money’s no object because my uncle Paul is paying’. There was no chance for him to inquire any further after that for the rest of the afternoon was taken up with Tara asking his opinion of dress after dress until, even with his photographic memory, they all began to look the same.
"Yes," Tara sighs. She glances over the seat at them, shaking her head. “Fucking family. It’s such a mess. You should both be glad you don’t-" Tara’s cheeks turn pink and her eyes go wide.
“And that would be the sound of my wife-to-be’s foot lodging firmly in her mouth,” Ron says looking over at her.
She looks absolutely mortified. “I’m so sorry guys. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s all right, Tara,” Orli soothes with a soft smile. "I know you."
She returns it with an embarrassed, apologetic smile of her own. “Family can just be a pain in the ass. There’s usually one nutter in the bunch and that one turned out to be my mom.”
Tara turns to fiddle with the air conditioning, cranking it up, before turning back to them. “When she was young, and just after she met my dad, she got into religion big time. I guess she couldn’t abide how the rest of my family lived - they didn't go to church, they cursed and drank and what not. She and my dad basically picked up, moved to Vermont, and severed all ties with their families. Her crazy is what drove me out. I had to get away from her." She smiles another apologetic smile and Elijah can see, from the way Ron reaches out and rubs her shoulder, that it must bother her, even as it makes her angry.
“So, anyway, Paul is my mom’s older brother. She never mentioned him to me or my sisters; in fact all I remember her telling me when I was little was that the rest of her family was dead.” Tara plays with her necklace. “They were dead to her, I guess. I didn’t know about him until a year ago. One day I get this call from my sister, Heather, and she asks me if I knew that we had an uncle. Of course I didn’t, but apparently she’d gotten a call from some detective service. He’d been searching for our mother and the investigator found us. That was so weird."
"How come you didn't tell me?" Orlando wonders.
"You were busy on a promo jag. And it was just … weird. I didn't know what would come of it or anything. Mom wouldn’t take his call but we did." Tara pauses to take sip of water from the opened bottle sitting in the console. “He’s some rich money guy. I wished I would’ve known him when I first moved to California. I wouldn’t have had to rely on the charity of strangers, but that’s irony for you.”
"It wasn't charity." Orlando smiles.
Tara laughs. “Yeah, you made me work my butt off." She winks at Orli. "Turns out he’s a really nice guy, happy to be in touch with us too. He never married or had a family of his own. It’s sad but,” she makes a move as if to bite her thumb but pauses, a little grin sneaking on to her face, “it’s also really good for us girls. He’s setting up trust funds for my nieces and nephew and when I mentioned that I was getting married, well, he offered to pay for everything. I told him no, of course, but he said that he was planning on gifting us all and really wanted to help.”
“She feels guilty, if you can’t tell,” Ron adds dryly; then with a little grin, “Just not that guilty.”
She swats Ron again. “Oh, stop.”
“He’s like a fairy-god-uncle,” Ron falsettos.
“He’s a good guy! He just wants to be involved!”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, honey,” Ron returns.
“We couldn’t have had this huge wedding without him.”
“I would’ve paid,” Orlando protests. “I offered.”
Tara just shakes her head. “I know you did, sweetie, but I wasn’t going to take your money.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” she returns, which, in Elijah’s opinion, is not a very clear answer.
“Tara,” Orlando presses; apparently her answer doesn’t suit him either.
“Awww come on, Orli.” Her eyes soften and she gives him a heartfelt look. “You took care of me way more than you had to over the years. It was time my own family did something. That’s why I accepted his offer. That, and he really wanted to do something for me, you know?”
Orlando acknowledges this with a nod.
“I’m really glad you’re here though.” She brightens and worms around to face them fully. “I can’t wait for you to finally meet my sisters, and my nieces and nephew. You know that you’re as important to me as they are, right?”
A grin splits Orlando's face, but Elijah notices there is something more there too, something that adds a liquid sparkle to Orli’s eyes. It is one of those tricky emotional responses but he can tell it is a good thing and sometimes people cry when they’re happiest. Perhaps it’s just that. Perhaps it’s the thought of being family when you have none. He wonders if Orli is thinking about his mother.
“You too, Elijah,” Tara adds with that same happy grin. “Just think, now you’ll get to see what all your hard work has been for.”
Ron clears his throat and Elijah looks up, catching Ron’s eyes in the rearview briefly. “I just wanted to say thanks. Tara really appreciated your help and so did I. More than you’ll ever know.”
In this case Ron’s gratitude is easy to see and Elijah smiles. “It was fine. I really liked tasting the cakes.”
"All that and tasting the cakes was your favorite part?" Tara pooches out her bottom lip. When Ron and Orlando break out into laughter she sticks out her tongue at them.
"I've got an idea," Ron suggest, "how about we talk about something other than the wedding for a little bit." He gives Tara a big, cheesy smile.
She snorts at him but turns the topic to Orlando's new movie release, more particularly to how angry the movie company is at the fact that he refused do the press junket.
“My name is going to be on all the lists,” Orlando laments teasingly.
“The blacklists,” she agrees, making finger quotes. When they stop laughing Tara turns serious. “You really don’t care, do you?”
Orli shakes his head. “No."
"Because of Veronica?"
"Because I didn't want to have to be on the road for a month."
Elijah thinks he should probably feel guilty, Orlando stayed home for him, but he doesn't.
"I don't know whether you're killing the speculation or exacerbating it," she muses. "I haven't had time to check the gossip blogs."
Orlando smirks. “I’m much happier not having anywhere to go. Other than here, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” She gives him a knowing smile in return. “I’m sure you just appreciated the hell out of getting up at four this morning to catch a flight to my wedding.”
Orlando makes a face. “Is that what time it was?”
“Should’ve been. You had to catch a flight by six. If not for Elijah I know you would’ve overslept and missed the flight, but I knew I could count on him.”
Orlando nods. “He's very trustworthy. He also made getting up very worthwhile.”
"Oh, really," Tara drawls.
Elijah feels his face heat under her cheeky gaze and he turns to take in the scenery flying past, but it’s all trees.
“Tara?" He turns at the sound of Orlando's voice. "I wanted to give this to you now. To make sure it didn’t get lost in the shuffle.” Orlando hands her a simple white envelope.
“What’s this?” She peeks at him as she accepts it.
“Just a little something for the both of you.”
“Oooh, can I open it?” She has the look of a kid a Christmas and Orlando plagues her by squinching up his face.
"Isn't there some rule about bad luck if you open gifts before the wedding?"
She rolls her eyes at him. "No, that's seeing the bride in her wedding dress."
"Oh, well, okay then."
Elijah wonders what it is, Orli didn’t ask for his help with this one. He watches as she carefully opens the envelope and can pulls out a delicately embossed wedding card.
Tara smiles as she reads the verse on the front and then Elijah sees her eyes widen. He glances at Orli but he is watching Tara.
“Orli…” Tara is at a loss for words and that really piques Elijah's curiosity.
He isn't the only curious one, Ron glances at her, trying to figure out what is going on. “Honey?”
“This is too much,” she whispers. She closes the card and tries to pass it back over the seat to Orli.
Orlando simply looks at it, then at her, and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s yours.”
“It’s too much! What are you, crazy?” She flaps the envelope at him. “We can’t accept this.”
“If you don’t want it then donate it to charity, because it’s yours.”
“What- what is it, honey?” Ron tries again, clearly intrigued.
“I can’t show this to you while you’re driving you’ll run us off the road,” she tells him as she opens the card and stares at the contents again. “Orli-“
“I want you to be able to live the life you always wanted, Tara.”
Elijah notes that there are tears in her eyes and they spill on to her cheeks when she looks up.
“You deserve it. You kept me in line all those years. “
“It wasn’t that difficult a job, Orli." She brushes at the tears but more spill in their place. "This is too much.”
“Meant a lot to me,” Orlando confesses. “You mean a lot to me.”
Elijah feels Orlando’s hand slide inside his and Elijah squeezes instinctively; it’s a small measure of support for whatever this is.
“You realize that this means I quit, right?” She is laughing and crying now.
“What is it?” Ron asks as he cranes his head to look.
“It’s - Maybe you should pull over."
"Just tell me." Ron's eyes look like they're about to bug out of his head.
"It's ten million dollars.”
Elijah clutches the armrest when the car jerks sharply to the left.
“Ron! Jesus!” Tara yells.
“It’s what? I don’t think I heard-“ Ron’s eyes are back on the road and the car is headed in a relatively straight, not-going-to-crash-in-to-a-ditch, direction.
“Ten. Million. Dollars,” Tara enunciates each word carefully.
"No way." Ron reaches for the card.
"Believe me, it is."
Ron flicks a look of disbelief over his shoulder at Orlando.
“Congratulations,” Orlando says sheepishly.
“Ron! Pull over if you need to but don’t freaking kill us all, okay?” Tara cries.
Ron jerks the car out of the passing lane and slows appreciably. "You're shitting me, right? Right?"
"No, she's right," Orlando verifies.
“Orli, man, we can’t take this. We can’t accept that.” Elijah can see that Ron is gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white.
“Listen, both of you, I have it to give. I want to give it to you. It’s not like I have family to share it with. You are my family. It's not like I can take it with me when I -“
“Orli!” Tara protests. “Be serious, would you?”
“I am. I had my bank do the transfer. It’s already in your account. I didn’t want you to think it was a bank error or something.”
“Orli, this is just insane.” Tara looks at him helplessly.
“Tara,” Orlando’s voice has taken on a pleading tone, “just take it. Enjoy it. Build a wonderful life with it. You did so much for me and I want to do this for you."
“Orli, I really didn’t do anything.”
“You’re my friend; that’s everything.”
Elijah knows by the set of Orlando’s jaw there’s no argument that can be waged and won here. It seems that Tara knows that too. She slumps against the passenger door and looks back at Orlando through the gap, there are tears still shimmering in her eyes and her bottom lip is quivering.
“Thank you,” she mouths.
“You’re welcome.”
“All you're going to get is some crappy thank-you note in the mail." She turns to root for something in the glove box.
"You don't have to thank me."
Tara gives him a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “We’ll have to think of something really special.” She finds a paper napkin and presses it to her nose.
"I don’t know anything that’s going to top this." Ron glances at Orli in the rearview mirror.
“You could always name your first born after us,” Orlando teases.
Tara’s brows rise comically. "Who says we're having kids."
"You did," Orlando counters with a grin. "You want twins, a boy and a girl so you can get it over with all at once."
"So you do listen to me."
"Always."
"Well," she drawls thoughtfully, "I’d name him after Elijah, but Orlando?” She makes an uncertain face.
“Why not?” Orlando acts wounded.
“Orlando Olivetti?”
“Sounds Italian,” Elijah muses, and he is pleased when they all laugh.
They are still laughing about the name issue, though now it revolves around the likelihood of the poor child getting saddled with the nickname 'Spaghettio" at school, as they pull into the long winding drive to the old farmhouse where the wedding will be held.
Elijah steps out of the rental and tries to take it all in. The house itself sits high on a hill on a swathe of green grass. Before him it slopes away to the road they just traveled and below that he can see the ocean. It is not a wide-open expanse as he had imagined, but a series of small islands: dots of tree-covered rock, really. The fog rolling in obscures what lies beyond, but that only lends a little air of mystery to the place, seeming to cut it off from the rest of the world.
A huge white tent has been erected on the large side lawn, ready and waiting for the celebration to come. He can see now why she chose to travel so far.
Tara leads them into the farmhouse, which is bustling with activity. It is crowded; there are some familiar faces from the engagement party, but many, many strangers. Tara shouts a promise, over the din, to introduce everyone in a minute, then leads them up a narrow staircase to a small bedroom.
“I know it’s not the Iaole Hyatt," she says, pulling her lip between her teeth, "but it has its charm.”
“Is 'charm' another word for 'small'?” Orlando asks with a grin.
“No, it’s another word for antique.”
Orlando tosses his suitcase on top of the bed and they hear the bedsprings protest loudly.
Tara blushes and grins. “The owners like to keep things, er, authentic.”
The three of them stare at the double bed, the small, noisy double bed, and laugh.
“And, um, just so you know,” Tara blushes furiously, and tries to hide her grin by biting her bottom lip, but fails the moment she opens her mouth to speak, “my sister and her two little girls are on one side of you and Ron’s grandma is on the other side.”
“And you wouldn't let me rent a room in Bangor,” Orli muses sadly.
"That is just too far away. This way you can be with all of us!" She beams a hopeful smile at him.
"You're lucky I love you, Tara," Orlando says with a shake of his head.
"I know," she replies cheekily. "Now, come downstairs and I'll introduce you."
*
That night there is a small dinner on a private beach. There is a bonfire, fresh lobster, corn and plenty of beer and wine. It is a very casual affair with the food on red-checkered covered picnic tables, industrial strength paper plates, and a brilliant red sunset as the backdrop.
Elijah enjoys it immensely. The lobster is almost decadently sweet, but it is the melted butter he develops a true fondness for. He looks up and catches Orli watching him as he soaks a small chunk of lobster in the little ramekin of butter.
"Would you like some lobster with that butter?" Orli teases.
"No, I prefer my butter plain," Elijah smirks back.
And after dinner, and a rush of cleaning up, during which many hands make light work, Tara’s cousin brings out a guitar and starts to play. Tara’s sister, Heather, can really sing and at first they leave her to belt out standards until others, who’ve finally had enough wine or beer, join in too. Elijah listens with a smile on his face and his eyes on the surf and newly peeping stars.
It cools off quickly once the sun sets, but he doesn't feel it wrapped up in Orlando’s arms and the enjoyment of the moment. He’s never been to anything like this before, where it is all about friends, family, love and merriment, and for once Elijah feels like he’s really part of it. This is one of the most beautiful nights he has ever experienced.
Tara’s friends try to get them to sing and one of Ron’s uncles from New Jersey keeps trying to get Orlando to eat another of his famous pickled eggs, 'Cause they’re good with beer', but Orlando politely waves him off.
"Having a good time?" Orlando asks in a low voice.
"Yes." If only Orlando could understand the depth behind that one word answer.
The revelry carries on late into the night, which is fine then, but causes a blatant snag in the program for the carefully scheduled wedding day. Even Tara is running behind, but is, thankfully, too foggy to get properly worked up over it.
Elijah steps in to help while she lingers with a coffee and hangover remedy. He directs the caterers and the florists and arriving guests like a professional. It is easy for him as he is not, according to a colorful phrase Ron's uncle used, one of the 'walking wounded' and he has been privy to all her plans.
He puts Orlando in charge of making sure Ron and the best man, neither of whom made it to the breakfast table, arrive at the tent on time for the ceremony. It’s a good thing it’s a late afternoon wedding, or it never would have happened on time.
Despite all of the self-created obstacles, and a strong gust of wind that nearly proves fatal to the wedding cake, everything appears ready by the appointed hour.
“You know what that suit does to me,” Orlando purrs in Elijah’s ear as he slips into the seat beside him.
Elijah smiles, but doesn't reply. All they are waiting for now is the music to start and Tara to walk down the aisle.
There is a flick of wet tongue against the curve of his ear and Elijah elbows Orlando subtly. They are surrounded by Tara's family.
Orlando leans in as if to whisper something more and gives his earlobe a gentle little suck. It is something he has a great weakness for and he is sure he is blushing more than the bride as she makes her way down the aisle.
*
By the time the ceremony is over and they enter the tent to eat and drink, those who were suffering from the after-effects of last night’s revelries seem to be having their second wind. Tara has seated Orlando and Elijah with her sisters, Heidi and Heather, near the head table and Orlando is busy entertaining her nephew, Sam. Elijah watches Orlando lift the little boy, who is giggling delightedly and dangling like a monkey from Orlando’s arm.
Elijah has little experience with children, but he loves to watch them. He is taken by the way they find the simplest things amusing and finds their laughter infectious.
“Lift me again, Orli, pleeeaaze,” Sam implores, trying to hang from Orlando's arm and almost certainly getting grass stains on the knees of his slacks.
“Stop, Sam. You’re going to wear him out,” Heidi scolds. She gives Orlando an apologetic look. "Come on, I'll get you some cheese." Cheese seems to trump being hoisted into the air and the little boy scampers off at his mother's side.
Orlando sinks into his seat and blows an errant lock from the middle of his forehead. Then he grins wickedly at Elijah, for, where Orlando had only one, Elijah has two little ones enamored of him. Heather’s daughters are aged three and four, and seem to find him quite charming, despite the fact that he has no idea why, or what he should be doing.
Heather asked if he wouldn't mind watching them for just a moment while she dashed off to the bathroom. She’s left him with only the one instruction: that he makes sure they do not put anything into their mouths. Sabine, the four year old, doesn’t seem to have an issue, but Chloe has made several attempts to put every object on the table into her mouth.
He never knew that a child so small could seem to have four arms at once, and after realizing that he couldn’t take his eyes off her for a second, not even to look at the little book Sabine has been begging him to read, he finally pushed his seat back from the table and is currently letting her fiddle with his tie.
Elijah is relieved when Heather returns. He marvels at her ability to keep Chloe occupied while managing to feed Sabine some grapes and still manage to carry on a conversation with Heidi.
*
After dinner, the circular tables are pulled back and Elijah looks at the square of room they’ve made.
“What happens now?” Elijah asks. "Is it over?"
"Oh, no," Heather laughs. "This party is just beginning. You've never been to a wedding before?"
Elijah shakes his head. She pats his arm sympathetically. "Well, first there are going to be some traditional dances but then we all get to party."
Orlando groans.
Elijah turns to him uncertainly. “Is that a bad thing?” When Orlando laughs he asks, “What?”
“Nothing." Orlando shakes his head.
"What's the matter?" Heather teases. "Afraid of a little dancing?"
Orlando laughs. "Not afraid of it, I just don't do it. Two left feet, you know.”
"You guys are all the same," she tsks. "Believe me, if I drag you out there you'll dance." At that moment she notices Chloe wandering away and dashes after her.
“You won't dance even for me?” Elijah asks.
“Don’t make this hard on me, please?" Orlando pleads. "Spare yourself the humiliation, yeah? Besides I don’t need someone to catch my flailing and leak the footage to Access Entertainment. They’d probably say I was having a seizure or something.”
“Hi boys!” Tara’s bright voice prevents Elijah’s attempt to tease, or plead, he’s not entirely sure which. They both stand to greet her, and the older gentleman whose arm she’s holding.
He is perhaps fifty, very distinguished looking with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
“This is my long lost uncle, Paul, the one I told you about. I’m sorry I didn’t get to introduce you all earlier.”
“Well, you were a little busy my dear.” Paul smiles at her and pats her hand.
"And you were a little late," she adds with a smile.
He ducks his head in a sheepish fashion and agrees with her. "Yes, yes. If I’d made it in yesterday as planned, today wouldn’t be such a rush. But business calls.”
She introduces Orlando.
“Pleasure to finally meet you.” Paul gives Orlando a brusque handshake. “Tara has had nothing but nice things to say about you.”
"And you," Orli replies.
Elijah expects to be ignored, has even taken a step back as is proper, but Paul turns assessing eyes on him. “And you must be Elijah.”
Elijah reaches out to the hand that is offered, slightly surprised that Paul would know his name. “Tara tells me she quite enjoys your company and you've been a huge help to her.”
A smile blossoms across his face at the thought that Tara actually mentioned him but it falters at the feel of Paul's touch. It is not a simple, quick, nice-to-meet-you handshake. Paul’s right hand hold his while the left slides far too intimately over the back of his hand, to his wrist, where it lingers. He doesn’t miss, and certainly doesn’t like, the lingering, perusing look Paul gives him.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Elijah manages politely. Paul makes him feel like he is back at one of Karl’s parties.
The DJ announces something that elicits a bit of an excited squeal from Tara; it draws Paul’s attention and Elijah takes the opportunity to retrieve his hand. He wipes it surreptitiously on his pants leg.
“Come on Elijah, come dance with the bride!”
Elijah doesn't argue, grateful that she wants to drag him away. He wants nothing more than to put some distance between himself and Tara’s uncle even if he doesn't necessarily feel like trying to dance now, either.
“Tara told me he's one of those Realistics, right?” Elijah catches just the wisp of Paul's query as Tara draws him forward. “I was thinking of getting one for myself."
Elijah strains to hear more but loses their conversation in the loud thump of music and Tara urging him to 'Shake it, baby, shake it!'
*
Elijah dances three songs, which is roughly the time it takes for Paul to drift away and Tara’s attention to be diverted long enough for him to make a clean escape.
“You were looking good out there.” Orlando tells him as he drops into the chair by his side.
“I like dancing," Elijah admits. "Are you going to dance with me?”
Orlando shakes his head vehemently. “No way. Two left feet.”
“Please,” Elijah pleads.
Orlando says nothing, just tilts his head and looks at him.
“What?”
“You’re just beautiful. That’s all. I can’t help but stare.”
Elijah blushes. “That’s a cheap distraction.”
“Works though,” Orlando replies with a cheeky smile.
“What did Tara’s uncle say?” he asks when he's sure there is no one in earshot.
Orlando shrugs. “Nothing much. We just chatted.”
“But he asked about me?”
“He asked about Realistics, yeah,” Orlando admits and the smile begins to fade. "Don't worry about it, okay? He was just curious."
"Excuse me." The tentative interruption comes from a young, teenage girl. "I was wondering if I …" she holds a pen and a napkin hopefully in Orlando's direction.
Orlando agrees graciously and spends some time answering her questions about the new movie. Elijah glances around, dusk is falling and he watches as many strands of twinkle lights are turned on and candles lit on the tables.
He catches Paul staring at him and wishes he could shrink away. There are two types of curiosity and he knows this kind all too well. He is grateful when Heather and her girls return for drinks of water and to finish their slices of wedding cake.
*
Elijah is telling Heather about his fish tank when Paul slips into the seat across the table.
“You should see the aquarium he has assembled,” Orlando supplies helpfully when Elijah lets the conversation linger.
“Really?” Paul sounds utterly intrigued by this and Elijah shifts uncomfortably.
“What is your favorite thing about it?” Paul inquires in the same indulgent tone Elijah has heard people use with small children.
“The fish,” he answers bluntly. He knows his tone could be considered rude but he wants to keep their interaction short.
“That’s all?” Paul presses.
“I like the model pirate ship I built, and my replica of the lost city of Atlantis.”
“Really?” Paul strokes his chin, there is an amused smile on his face. “You like pirates?”
“I like that I built it myself.”
“Did you build Atlantis too?”
Elijah shakes his head. “That was already preassembled.”
“Why Atlantis?”
Elijah shrugs. “Because it’s a mystery. Because it’s full of secrets.” He can identify with it.
“And you like that? That it’s all mysterious?” Paul’s grinning at him like he’s a puppy that’s just performed a trick.
"Yes."
“Fascinating,” Paul breathes. “I'm absolutely amazed. You came up with this all on your own?”
"What do you mean?" Elijah wonders.
"You just decided that you liked fish? Orlando didn't tell you to get them?"
When Elijah shakes his head in reply he can see the interest spark in Paul's eyes.
"I have two friends with Realistics," Paul speaks pointedly to Orlando, "and from a distance, no, even up close, they look real. But the moment they opened their mouths it broke the illusion. They are so robotic. Kinda creeped me out. But this one here…" Paul's eyes are on him again, "seems so real. Was it like this when you got it or did you have to work with it? Or maybe it’s some black market programming?”
“Uncle Paul!” Heather hisses and Elijah can see the color’s up on her cheeks. "What are you doing?" It is obvious that his being a Realistic is no surprise to Heather but she looks mortified and a little angry all the same.
"I'm just asking a question," Paul brushes her off. It's obvious he is not used to being called on his words or actions.
“If you don’t mind, Paul, I’d rather not discuss this,” Orlando replies politely.
“Oh. Really?” Paul sounds disappointed. “I didn’t mean any offense.” But there is no ring of truth to that apology, just irritation. He is obviously not used to being told when to keep his nose out of where it doesn’t belong.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Orlando returns pleasantly but it is clear that is the end of the conversation.
The muscle in Paul’s jaw flexes agitatedly for a moment or two. Elijah catches the hungry look in Paul’s eye but it is only a flicker then gone.
“Anyone need anything from the bar?” Paul offers as he rises.
The three of them shake their heads and Paul excuses himself.
“Jesus,” Heather sighs, “I’m really sorry about that. I thought he would turn out to be the normal one."
Orlando grins at her. “You and Tara are so much alike.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” She says with a wink and stands. “I think I do need something from the bar after all. Something to calm me down. You want anything?”
Neither of them do and she wanders off to the bar, leaving them alone.
Orli slips closer and Elijah feels Orlando’s hand on the nape of his neck, Orlando strokes the soft hairs with his thumb. Elijah looks over at him apologetically.
“We make quite a pair don’t we? Attracting all the goods ones, yeah?” Orlando’s smile is soft, and a little melancholy.
“Think we’d be used to it by now.” Elijah returns with what he hopes is a lighthearted smile.
Orlando’s murmured ‘yeah’ and low chuckle are barely audible over the loud music. "I can't blame him for being fascinated by you."
Elijah doesn't admit how uncomfortable it makes him. It doesn't matter really. Paul can't have him.
“Uh-oh. Here comes your dance partner,” Orlando warns with a snicker.
“Elijahhh!” Tara trills. Her arms loop around him, pushing Orlando's away, and she hugs him tight. “Come on, Lij. Come dance with me!”
Elijah looks imploringly at Orlando but Orlando only grins with brows raised and tucks his arms away as Elijah reaches out to drag him along.
“Sorry. Two left feet,” Orli crows.
“Come on Elijah! We’re going to do the Electric Slide. You’ll love it.” She trips on who knows what and heaves up the heavy dress. He realizes she’s trying to remove her heels but they’re strappy numbers and she can’t do it.
“Wait. Just a sec.” Elijah kneels and fights his way through all the fabric to help her take them off. She hops around happily once she is free.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Orli shouts over the music.
Elijah only grins and lets the shoes fall where they may. He likes to dance.
*
“That is one mean Conga line,” Orlando whispers in his ear.
Elijah looks over his shoulder as the chain easily closes the gap that opened when Orlando snatched him out of line.
“Is that what it’s called?” He wonders as Orlando drags him into a dark corner.
Orlando nods and pulls him even closer, trapping him in the link of his arms.
“It’s fun,” Elijah grins, his hips still gyrating purposefully to the music.
Orlando’s hands on his ass stop him, not that he minds being groped like that but there is something strange about Orlando’s expression, the intense look seems out of place and makes him instantly nervous.
“What is it?” he demands.
“I- I have something I want to tell you.”
“What?” Fear blossoms in Elijah and panic leaves an icy trace across his skin. Please not now. Don’t send me back. Whatever I did… Please.
“Hey! I want my Conga partner back!” Tara shouts teasingly as the line weaves its way by a nearby table.
“In a minute!” Orlando yells back, waving her off. Somehow that makes it worse because it is something that Orlando can’t wait through a song to tell him.
Tara flaps her hands at them. “Fine. Keep to yourselves, young lovers!” She makes a great show of blowing kisses as she dances away, towing the rest of the line behind her.
Elijah waits until the last of them have passed out of earshot then turns with expectant eyes and heavy heart to Orlando. “Just tell me.” The dread makes him cold and he feels like he is freezing from the inside out.
“I don’t know if it’s just the wedding or what, Elijah, but I-“ Orlando pauses. Elijah knows it’s his patented response when there’s something he doesn’t want to say, and in that gap of time Elijah generates a staggering list of possibilities, starting with the obvious - that Orlando has suddenly realized he wants more than a piece of plastic, or a wife and kids - like Sam and Chloe.
“Just say it." He tries desperately to prepare himself, because he doesn’t know what he will do when Orlando finally does.
“I wanted to tell you that you make me very happy.”
“Happy?” Elijah echoes. He hadn’t expected that word. "But?" There must be more. Orlando wouldn't work him up like this just to tell him that he's happy.
“Yeah,” Orlando says softly and ducks his head, the rest spilling out like a confession, “I never thought I’d find someone that I would fall in love with.”
”You still think that you love me?” Elijah blurts.
Orlando’s long fingers move to cup his cheeks, they draw him closer and Orlando places an almost chaste kiss on his lips.
“Yes. I love you. I still love you. I don’t see any end to it.” Orlando pauses for a moment with a hopeful grin on his lips, “I know it hasn’t been easy being with me but I hope you’re happy. Just a little.”
“I am,” Elijah nods. He is just shocked. This isn’t what he had expected; gratefully, it isn’t what he’d prepared for. “I am happy.”
“Good. That’s good.”
But he can see the uncertainty in Orlando’s eyes.
“If I tell you that I love you will you know that I mean it? And not just think that it’s part of my programming?”
“Yes.” Orlando smiles at him and Elijah can see that he means it.
Elijah feels like bursting, that’s the only way to describe it. He buries his fingers in Orlando’s curls and tugs him forward, so close that he can whisper those very words into Orlando’s ear and against his lips.
They cling to each other in the shadows, swaying a little to the music.
“Do you believe in fate, Lij?” Orlando’s head is still bowed and Elijah has to lean back to look in Orlando’s eyes.
“Are you drunk?” Elijah asks half teasing, half not.
“No. I’m serious.”
Orlando presses soft kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, each like a brush of electricity against his skin.
“You do remember that we’re staying at the farmhouse?" Elijah reminds. "That little one? With the creaking bed? Which is right next to the room Tara’s two nieces are staying in?”
“There is always the floor."
Orlando’s husky suggestion drives a spike of hot anticipation through him and he clutches the material of Orlando’s shirt in his hands to keep them from roaming.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Orlando brings him on track. “Do you believe that some things happen for a reason?”
“Everything happens for a reason.” Elijah states with a cluck of his tongue. “It’s physics. Forces are exerted on an object and-"
“No,” Orlando lifts his head and fixes Elijah with a serious look, “I mean like destiny.”
Elijah worries his bottom lip then answers honestly. “No. I don’t.”
“Why not?” Orlando asks his brows knitting together in the way that makes him want to smooth Orlando against bed sheets somewhere and make him forget whatever it is that is bothering him. “You don’t believe that it was fate that night on the bridge?”
"I think that it was a good thing," Elijah replies, "but not fate. You had car trouble, and Three Points was ..." he shrugs. "It was just a random confluence of events -"
Orlando stops him with a kiss. A gentle one.
“I believe in it,” Orlando whispers.
Elijah tries to smile, and fails. “But you’re allowed to.” He hates the way his voice sounds, all sulky and petulant, but it’s true. “It’s different for you. You can make your own choices.”
“You can too, Lij.”
“Only with you, Orli.” Elijah feels a queer constricting inside his chest - hope, fear, anger, love. He is suddenly aware of too much. Someday this will end, Orlando will leave him, and The Company will try once more to transform him into a robot with no hopes and desires other than to please his master. It is in the knowledge that the next one could be another Karl, or Madeline. It is in knowing that the next time he’s got to get the self-termination right, or it is only going to get worse.
Orlando kisses him again; the kind of kiss that is fierce and possessive, and speaks volumes without words.
“I wish you’d believe, Lij. I wish you’d have a little faith. I need you to have faith.”
“Okay,” Elijah says without even knowing why, maybe because Orlando’s so desperate for it.
“You’re a sucky liar,” Orlando admonishes softly as he brushes his lips against Elijah’s again. “So, I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?” Elijah asks warily.
Orlando grins. “I want you to promise to believe me when I say that we are always going to be together.”
“That’s not fair, Orli.” Elijah realizes that Orlando can’t ever understand but it hurts just the same. “I can’t promise you that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
The look on Orlando’s face makes those bands constrict until he’s afraid something inside him will shatter. There is real anguish on Orlando’s face but Elijah finds that he can’t make the promise, even knowing that it would make Orlando feel better.
“ ‘S all right.” Orlando folds him close. “I got you something to remind you anyway.”
“Got me something?” Elijah repeats.
“Mmmhmm. You’re probably going to think that it’s goofy.”
”Is it Christmas socks?”
“What?” Orlando asks through laughter.
“I think your Christmas socks are goofy,” Elijah admits with a smile.
“Well, you have her to thank for those,” Orli nods in Tara’s direction.
Elijah looks over his shoulder and catches sight of Tara and her bridesmaids in the middle of some other ritualistic dance. If he studied it long enough he could probably compare it to his memory stores and identify it; it’s like the electric slide, but different.
Orlando’s fingers gently guide his cheek until he’s staring at Orlando’s palm, or rather the silver ring on Orlando’s palm.
“What’s that?”
“Just a little reminder.”
“It’s a ring.” Elijah blinks at it stupidly. Because it looks familiar.
Orlando is laughing again, Elijah can feel the vibrations of it running through Orlando's body.
“I mean I know it’s a ring but I thought …” It’s the same ring, the one that Orlando had worn home from Iaole when he smelled like Veronica James.
“It’s so you’ll remember. See the design?”
Elijah picks it up and turns the band on its side; it looks like it’s been decorated with a braid, or a bunch of squashed little 8’s, or a symbol.
“You know it," Orlando prompts.
"Infinity,” Elijah answers.
“Infinity on a circle. To me it means one thing: forever.”
Elijah stares at it as if it were a thing of very great weight. Which it is.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not Christmas socks.” Elijah stares at it, loving it and hating it at the same time.
“If I’d have known you’d rather have had socks instead…”
Orlando’s teasing but Elijah can see the hurt in his eyes.
“You wore this home. I thought … I thought Veronica gave this to you.” He knows he should just accept it, be grateful for it, but he can’t if it’s a second hand gift.
“No. Shit," Orlando sighs. "I had it made for you when I was on Halo. I forgot to take it off. I should have known your eagle eyes would spot it, but I thought for sure if you’d seen it you'd ask about it.”
“I didn't want to know what it meant,” Elijah admits truthfully. "I tried to find it after." What he would have done with it when he found it, however, is a mystery, even to him.
“Ah, that explains it."
"Explains what?"
"Why my house was so clean."
“Wh- where was it?” Now he has to know.
“Safety deposit box." Orlando looks at Elijah’s palm where the ring is resting. “Do you hate it?”
“No. No, I like it. Very much. Thank you.” Elijah realizes he is making a mess of things. He slips it on his ring finger. It’s too big.
“I had them size it to fit your thumb, so it wouldn’t be too weird, yeah?”
There it fits perfectly and Elijah spins it slowly around his thumb- forever, infinity, eternity - love. The ring feels strange and heavy on his finger, he has never worn any jewelry before.
"If you don’t like it you don’t have to wear it.”
“No. I really do like it, Orli.” He’s trying to process the whole situation and finding it a little overwhelming.
“You just don’t believe in it, I know.”
If only a ring could allow him to believe. If only it could be that kind of talisman.
“It means that you love me,” Elijah says with a smile. And that’s all that really matters.
“I just wanted you to have something to remind you of my promise.”
"I'll remember," Elijah promises. This is just Orlando’s way, he can't be angry about it. But he wonders how long Orlando’s forever will be.
Tbc …