For trianne: Auld Lang Syne
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Recipient: trianne
Author: escribo
Pairing: Elijah/David Wenham
Rating: strong R
Summary: 16,000 kilometres for New Year's in New York
Post-reveal Notes: Thanks to kiltsandlollies for keeping my tenses on the straight and narrow.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The music was incomprehensible to David. Sharp edged with a bowing chorus that bleated for what seemed like hours until he realized it had been hours, and he finally just stepped outside, and when that wasn't enough, he crossed the street. He'd come to check out the new sound with Elijah, whatever that meant. It wasn't how he'd thought he'd be spending New Year's Eve. He checked his watch--twenty five minutes to midnight--and decided he wasn't sure he was ready for the next year, though he was quite sure he was done with the last.
After nearly twenty seven hours spent traveling to get here after spending Christmas in New South Wales with his family, he still wasn't happy two days after landing at LaGuardia. It was cold in Brooklyn, where the venue was. It was cold everywhere, it seemed, and while he leaned against the brick wall of the Happy Go Lucky bakery, fat, wet flakes of snow began to fall, clinging to his hair and jacket. He closed his eyes and imagined himself back in Australia, the wind hot against his face and the sun bright and scorching.
Coming here had been a spur of the moment thing. The crackle of his parents' land line had made Elijah sound as if he was on the moon, and David had been keyed up enough to think that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad place to visit for a while. He'd stepped outside onto the patio, the reception suddenly going clear and loud as Elijah had said, you need more spontaneity in your life, and he had agreed. The next morning, he'd taken a bus from Marrickville to the Central Station and four days later, there he was in Brooklyn, wondering why.
Across the street, David watched as the door to the warehouse posing as a club opened and expelled several people at once, all dressed in tattered black, and he assumed the show, such as it was, must be over. From behind them, and as the last one out, came Elijah. He was wrapping a scarf around his neck, blue with white stripes--anachronistically bright in the dark alley, as if he'd pulled it from the back of his drawer, spilling out his Star Wars action figures in the process. From the recesses of some pocket, he came up with a crumpled pack of the beedies he smoked as if they contained oxygen.
"Dude," Elijah said as he stepped off the curb, drawing his foot back when a cab swung around the corner and lumbered past, spraying slush onto his black chucks. He stopped there, lit his cigarette, the match illuminating his face, and David watched, suddenly hungry for something more than the cheap Chinese they'd shared earlier. As if reading his thoughts, Elijah looked up then, drawing the cigarette away and waving the smoke from his face. "Didn't you like them?" he yelled across the street, waiting for another cab and then for a beat up brown Pinto to pass before he trotted across. More people spilled from the warehouse, stamping their feet and rubbing their hands over bare arms as they, too, searched their pockets for cigarettes and more.
"I wasn't sure what it was," David answered when Elijah stepped up onto his side of the street. The line of industrial buildings was quiet and dark except for the club itself, a bright fluorescent bulb buzzing above the door, and David took a step back into the shadows of the bakery.
"Disco punk rock." Elijah jammed his hands deep down into his jacket pockets and shrugged. "I don't know. Neo something or other. They have a lot of energy. Debbie Harry would sound mad with them."
He said it with such a seriousness that David only raised his eyebrows at him before he turned away from the cigarette that Elijah put to his lips. There was something obscene about Elijah's mouth, and David hadn't been able to stop himself from watching it. From wanting to taste it. He couldn't remember having those thoughts when Elijah had turned his big Frodo stare his way when they'd been in New Zealand.
"I think I have a headache," David said, totally uncommitted to the idea but he felt the need to offer up some sort of explanation for his mood since arriving. "It's making me act like an ass."
"I just figured you were having a mid-life crisis."
David choked on what he supposed was laughter. He'd call it that at least and not admit, at least not now, how close Elijah was to the truth. "I'll make it up to you."
"Nothing to make up for, Daisy. You're here and that's enough." Elijah stepped closer, pushing them back even further into the shadows, away from the sound of talk and laughter from across the street. Away from the headlights of the passing cars, out of the worst of the snow "I didn't actually think you'd come, you know?"
"I didn't mean to." And he hadn't, not really. He'd taken that first step away and told his brother that he needed to take care of something in Sydney, and then back in Sydney, he'd said he had business in Los Angeles. Standing in New York, he wasn't really sure why he just didn't go on hopscotching back around the world until he was standing on his parents' patio again. He didn't want to go, though, not when he remembered the sound of Elijah's voice, you need more spontaneity in your life.
David wrapped his cold hand around Elijah's neck, beneath the scarf, and pulled him close, holding him there. Elijah waited while David made up his mind, a smile only just barely turning up the corners of his mouth. David was close enough to smell the spice and mango from Elijah's beedie. Closing his eyes, the scent carried David back to the summer of his Christmas, to the barbecue picnic and his siblings with their families. Christmas night had found him tracing his finger in the night sky to show off the stars to his nieces and nephews, to his own daughter, and now there are no stars in New York, only a constellation of snow.
"It's almost midnight," Elijah whispered, and David nodded but didn't bother to look at his watch. The crowd at the door across the street were jostling to get back inside the humid warmth of the club and from the open door, they could hear the disco punk rock starting up again, the reverb channeling out and echoing against the stark industrial buildings.
Elijah used his hips to pin David against the brick wall, to keep David in the here and now, and then straightened as he tugged David's shirt from his trousers, his cold fingers against David's stomach. David nudged his nose against the scratchy acrylic wool of Elijah's sweater, imagined that he could smell ski trips and cocoa, camping beneath the stars and games of tag. This, David thought when he finally remembered to. Remembered to breathe. He sighed and surrendered, his hands moving to Elijah's waist.
David's breath caught in his throat when he realized Elijah was reaching for his zipper. David was shocked to find that he'd wanted to feel that dangerous, warm and wet mouth of Elijah's wrap around his cock and just the thought of it made him hard. More spontaneity Elijah had said and David clenched his hand on Elijah's shoulder hard, and Elijah looked up, his eyes glassy and slightly unfocused. The last of the beedie made a sparking arch as Elijah tossed it aside and began a descent of his own.
"Christ," David whispered, the word puffing up into the cold night air the way the smoke from Elijah's cigarette had. David was surprised to find Elijah so demanding, so greedy. He had to fight to find then keep his footing before he cupped his hand behind Elijah's head, rubbing his fingers over the soft buzz of hair. He trailed his thumb over Elijah's cheek and lips, over the tip of his own cock before Elijah took it back into his mouth.
Elijah pushed himself forward as David remained still, the universe contracting into just the heat in his belly and down his spine, watching, feeling Elijah's blunt nails digging into his skin, leaving half moon marks. And as David looked down at Elijah, stared at his lush, full eyelashes fluttering when David moved deeper inside his mouth, Elijah met his rhythm, working in tandem and David imagined what it felt like--what the press of his cock felt like on the back of Elijah's throat. How Elijah's jaw must ache and how careful he had to be to make sure his teeth were only used when it would bring pleasure rather than pain.
I didn't come for this, David thought, but he would have, he knew. Had he known it was an option, had he thought for a minute this was what 16,000 kilometres would have brought him. He came then, pushed his hips forward, almost sharply, before drawing them back and setting a pace much harsher than he had before. The quick, sharp inhale of air through Elijah's nose shocked David into moving his hips again until he was spent.
"Shit," David said, and his voice sounded as if it was muffled with wet wool. Elijah was quick to stand, to cover them both. To rest his head on David's chest as he took deep, gulping breaths and echoed David. "Shit."
Across the street, the door swung open again and they both flinched as the sound of a couple of hundred people counting ricocheted off the buildings around them. At one, Elijah lifted his head and kissed David hard, and David kissed him back. There was a loud cheer and David felt like joining in, felt it well up in his chest and spill into Elijah. Felt Elijah grinning against his lips when neither could kiss anymore.
"Happy fucking New Year," Elijah said, and David laughed out loud. They stepped out of the shadows and back into the music, an energetic version of Auld Lang Syne, spilling from the still open door, more punk than rock this time, and David shrugged.
"I--" David bit down on his words before he said something completely twee. He shrugged again, and raised his hand for a taxi as it moved down the street. He'd go home with Elijah tonight and maybe he'd stay, at least for a little while. "You know, at 18 I thought you were completely ridiculous."
"I was supposed to be ridiculous at 18. It's, like, a law."
***
Recipient: trianne
Author: escribo
Pairing: Elijah/David Wenham
Rating: strong R
Summary: 16,000 kilometres for New Year's in New York
Post-reveal Notes: Thanks to kiltsandlollies for keeping my tenses on the straight and narrow.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
The music was incomprehensible to David. Sharp edged with a bowing chorus that bleated for what seemed like hours until he realized it had been hours, and he finally just stepped outside, and when that wasn't enough, he crossed the street. He'd come to check out the new sound with Elijah, whatever that meant. It wasn't how he'd thought he'd be spending New Year's Eve. He checked his watch--twenty five minutes to midnight--and decided he wasn't sure he was ready for the next year, though he was quite sure he was done with the last.
After nearly twenty seven hours spent traveling to get here after spending Christmas in New South Wales with his family, he still wasn't happy two days after landing at LaGuardia. It was cold in Brooklyn, where the venue was. It was cold everywhere, it seemed, and while he leaned against the brick wall of the Happy Go Lucky bakery, fat, wet flakes of snow began to fall, clinging to his hair and jacket. He closed his eyes and imagined himself back in Australia, the wind hot against his face and the sun bright and scorching.
Coming here had been a spur of the moment thing. The crackle of his parents' land line had made Elijah sound as if he was on the moon, and David had been keyed up enough to think that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad place to visit for a while. He'd stepped outside onto the patio, the reception suddenly going clear and loud as Elijah had said, you need more spontaneity in your life, and he had agreed. The next morning, he'd taken a bus from Marrickville to the Central Station and four days later, there he was in Brooklyn, wondering why.
Across the street, David watched as the door to the warehouse posing as a club opened and expelled several people at once, all dressed in tattered black, and he assumed the show, such as it was, must be over. From behind them, and as the last one out, came Elijah. He was wrapping a scarf around his neck, blue with white stripes--anachronistically bright in the dark alley, as if he'd pulled it from the back of his drawer, spilling out his Star Wars action figures in the process. From the recesses of some pocket, he came up with a crumpled pack of the beedies he smoked as if they contained oxygen.
"Dude," Elijah said as he stepped off the curb, drawing his foot back when a cab swung around the corner and lumbered past, spraying slush onto his black chucks. He stopped there, lit his cigarette, the match illuminating his face, and David watched, suddenly hungry for something more than the cheap Chinese they'd shared earlier. As if reading his thoughts, Elijah looked up then, drawing the cigarette away and waving the smoke from his face. "Didn't you like them?" he yelled across the street, waiting for another cab and then for a beat up brown Pinto to pass before he trotted across. More people spilled from the warehouse, stamping their feet and rubbing their hands over bare arms as they, too, searched their pockets for cigarettes and more.
"I wasn't sure what it was," David answered when Elijah stepped up onto his side of the street. The line of industrial buildings was quiet and dark except for the club itself, a bright fluorescent bulb buzzing above the door, and David took a step back into the shadows of the bakery.
"Disco punk rock." Elijah jammed his hands deep down into his jacket pockets and shrugged. "I don't know. Neo something or other. They have a lot of energy. Debbie Harry would sound mad with them."
He said it with such a seriousness that David only raised his eyebrows at him before he turned away from the cigarette that Elijah put to his lips. There was something obscene about Elijah's mouth, and David hadn't been able to stop himself from watching it. From wanting to taste it. He couldn't remember having those thoughts when Elijah had turned his big Frodo stare his way when they'd been in New Zealand.
"I think I have a headache," David said, totally uncommitted to the idea but he felt the need to offer up some sort of explanation for his mood since arriving. "It's making me act like an ass."
"I just figured you were having a mid-life crisis."
David choked on what he supposed was laughter. He'd call it that at least and not admit, at least not now, how close Elijah was to the truth. "I'll make it up to you."
"Nothing to make up for, Daisy. You're here and that's enough." Elijah stepped closer, pushing them back even further into the shadows, away from the sound of talk and laughter from across the street. Away from the headlights of the passing cars, out of the worst of the snow "I didn't actually think you'd come, you know?"
"I didn't mean to." And he hadn't, not really. He'd taken that first step away and told his brother that he needed to take care of something in Sydney, and then back in Sydney, he'd said he had business in Los Angeles. Standing in New York, he wasn't really sure why he just didn't go on hopscotching back around the world until he was standing on his parents' patio again. He didn't want to go, though, not when he remembered the sound of Elijah's voice, you need more spontaneity in your life.
David wrapped his cold hand around Elijah's neck, beneath the scarf, and pulled him close, holding him there. Elijah waited while David made up his mind, a smile only just barely turning up the corners of his mouth. David was close enough to smell the spice and mango from Elijah's beedie. Closing his eyes, the scent carried David back to the summer of his Christmas, to the barbecue picnic and his siblings with their families. Christmas night had found him tracing his finger in the night sky to show off the stars to his nieces and nephews, to his own daughter, and now there are no stars in New York, only a constellation of snow.
"It's almost midnight," Elijah whispered, and David nodded but didn't bother to look at his watch. The crowd at the door across the street were jostling to get back inside the humid warmth of the club and from the open door, they could hear the disco punk rock starting up again, the reverb channeling out and echoing against the stark industrial buildings.
Elijah used his hips to pin David against the brick wall, to keep David in the here and now, and then straightened as he tugged David's shirt from his trousers, his cold fingers against David's stomach. David nudged his nose against the scratchy acrylic wool of Elijah's sweater, imagined that he could smell ski trips and cocoa, camping beneath the stars and games of tag. This, David thought when he finally remembered to. Remembered to breathe. He sighed and surrendered, his hands moving to Elijah's waist.
David's breath caught in his throat when he realized Elijah was reaching for his zipper. David was shocked to find that he'd wanted to feel that dangerous, warm and wet mouth of Elijah's wrap around his cock and just the thought of it made him hard. More spontaneity Elijah had said and David clenched his hand on Elijah's shoulder hard, and Elijah looked up, his eyes glassy and slightly unfocused. The last of the beedie made a sparking arch as Elijah tossed it aside and began a descent of his own.
"Christ," David whispered, the word puffing up into the cold night air the way the smoke from Elijah's cigarette had. David was surprised to find Elijah so demanding, so greedy. He had to fight to find then keep his footing before he cupped his hand behind Elijah's head, rubbing his fingers over the soft buzz of hair. He trailed his thumb over Elijah's cheek and lips, over the tip of his own cock before Elijah took it back into his mouth.
Elijah pushed himself forward as David remained still, the universe contracting into just the heat in his belly and down his spine, watching, feeling Elijah's blunt nails digging into his skin, leaving half moon marks. And as David looked down at Elijah, stared at his lush, full eyelashes fluttering when David moved deeper inside his mouth, Elijah met his rhythm, working in tandem and David imagined what it felt like--what the press of his cock felt like on the back of Elijah's throat. How Elijah's jaw must ache and how careful he had to be to make sure his teeth were only used when it would bring pleasure rather than pain.
I didn't come for this, David thought, but he would have, he knew. Had he known it was an option, had he thought for a minute this was what 16,000 kilometres would have brought him. He came then, pushed his hips forward, almost sharply, before drawing them back and setting a pace much harsher than he had before. The quick, sharp inhale of air through Elijah's nose shocked David into moving his hips again until he was spent.
"Shit," David said, and his voice sounded as if it was muffled with wet wool. Elijah was quick to stand, to cover them both. To rest his head on David's chest as he took deep, gulping breaths and echoed David. "Shit."
Across the street, the door swung open again and they both flinched as the sound of a couple of hundred people counting ricocheted off the buildings around them. At one, Elijah lifted his head and kissed David hard, and David kissed him back. There was a loud cheer and David felt like joining in, felt it well up in his chest and spill into Elijah. Felt Elijah grinning against his lips when neither could kiss anymore.
"Happy fucking New Year," Elijah said, and David laughed out loud. They stepped out of the shadows and back into the music, an energetic version of Auld Lang Syne, spilling from the still open door, more punk than rock this time, and David shrugged.
"I--" David bit down on his words before he said something completely twee. He shrugged again, and raised his hand for a taxi as it moved down the street. He'd go home with Elijah tonight and maybe he'd stay, at least for a little while. "You know, at 18 I thought you were completely ridiculous."
"I was supposed to be ridiculous at 18. It's, like, a law."
***