Fic: City of London, Part 3.
Jul. 13th, 2004 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seethingheathenTitle: City of London
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
limeysugar.
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes I: SQUICK ALERT! In the UK, the age of consent is 16. This story takes place in the last year of school for the boys (who in the series are the same age.), which makes them 17, almost 18. I am well aware that some people will not read anything wherein the characters are under the age of 18, hence the warning. There will be no descriptive sex, just angst, innuendo, and salty language. If this bothers you, don't read it. Simple as that.
Author's Notes II: Heavily inspired by the recent AU school fics bymarrymemerry and deleerium, and by the film Get Real. If you haven't seen it, do.
Read Part One and Part Two.
**
Orlando told Elijah to wait in the hall for a moment while he straightened his room. “It’s a right pigsty, and I’d be embarrassed if you saw it like that,” he’d said before grinning and shutting the door. So there Elijah stood, in the hall, biting his pinkie nail. He could hear drawers being shut and papers being moved around, and in a few minutes, the door opened, and Orlando gestured for Elijah to go in.
Orlando’s bedroom was perfectly clean, and Elijah wondered how, if it had been such a mess, Orly’d gotten it so clean so fast. Even the walls were blank. “Nice,” Elijah finally said.
“I rather like it. It’s quiet in here, and my family won’t bother me if I’ve got the door shut. Sit anywhere.” Elijah walked over at sat on the foot of Orlando’s bed. Had he been looking, he’d have seen Orlando blush. “You want anything to drink? We’ve got softies, milk, orange juice, tea, and water.”
“Softies?”
“Coke. And possibly ginger ale. Oh, Sprite for certain.”
“Um, please. Coke.” Elijah smiled at Orlando and watched him head down the hall toward the stairs. His smile faded when he saw that Orlando was still limping slightly despite his best efforts to hide it.
When Elijah bent to tie his shoe, he noticed a corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under the bed. He got on his knees to investigate, and what he found made him worry. Shoved under Orlando’s bed, in seeming haste, were pictures of various famous men. Most were cut from magazines; a few were posters, but all still bore remnants of the cellophane tape that had kept them stuck to the walls. Stuck there, that was, until Elijah’s arrival. He quickly got to his feet and sat back upon Orly’s bed before Orly came back with their drinks.
It bothered Elijah that Orlando took his picture collection down on his account. It seemed as though after Elijah had dared mention Dom’s name, Orlando had begun acting strangely. Or strangely, at least, to Elijah. He was now starting to wonder if Orlando was really as apathetic as he’d acted the day before, or if he really did care what people thought of him.
“Did you want ice? I didn’t get you any because the Coke is cold, but I can go back down if you’d like.” Orlando stood in the doorway with two cans of Coke in his hands.
“Nah, that’s cool. No ice. Waters it down.”
“Too right it does.” Orlando handed one can to Elijah and went and sat on his desk chair. He opened the can, raised it in the air, and proposed a toast. “To no ice!”
“To no ice,” Elijah repeated, thinking of the hidden posters.
**
Elijah stayed at Orlando’s and had dinner with his family. Orly’s mum was a great cook, and he learnt that Orly was a vegetarian. “He won’t even eat chicken most days,” his mum had said, shaking her head. “I honestly wonder how he doesn’t waste away eating nothing but salad sandwiches.” Elijah’d giggled; Orlando’d blushed.
After the meal, the two boys went back up to Orlando’s room, where they sat on Orly’s bed and took turns telling filthy jokes and trading embarrassing stories. “Here’s one,” said Elijah, still in fits after Orly’s last joke. “Two old men go into a whorehouse and demand the two best whores in the place. Of course, the madam was having no part of it, giving her best girls to the geezers, but she wanted the old men’s money, so she told them to wait while she got their rooms ready. What she’d done was to put blow-up dolls in each room.
"When the madam went back to the old men, she made them promise not to turn the lights on in their rooms, because the girls were shy.”
“Who’s ever heard of a shy tart?”
“Shh! I’m telling the joke! Anyway, they promised, and went off to their separate rooms. The next morning, on their way home, the old men compared experiences. ‘Well,’ the first old guy said, ‘I think mine was dead.’
"‘Why’s that?’
"‘All she did all night was lie there!’
"‘Ah,’ said the second geezer, ‘I think mine was a witch.’
"‘Why?’
"‘Well, when I bit her nipple, she farted and flew out the window!’” Elijah could barely speak for laughing, and Orlando was laughing so hard, he fell back on the bed. When Elijah looked back at him, the giggling stopped.
“Don’t look at me like that, Sherm,” Orlando whispered, closing his eyes. “Please.”
“Like what?” Elijah was whispering now as well.
“Like that, like you want to kiss me.”
“But I do.”
Without opening his eyes, Orlando calmly said, “Get out.”
“Orl-”
“Out. Just get out. Please, Elijah?”
“I don’t unders-”
Orlando sat up, and stared Elijah directly in the face. “Do I have to paint you a bloody sign? Get the fuck out!” Without further comment, Elijah stood and walked out of the bedroom.
**
Out on the pavement, Elijah looked up at the first floor windows, hoping to see Orlando looking back at him. He didn’t.
Go to Part Four.
Author:
limeysugar.Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes I: SQUICK ALERT! In the UK, the age of consent is 16. This story takes place in the last year of school for the boys (who in the series are the same age.), which makes them 17, almost 18. I am well aware that some people will not read anything wherein the characters are under the age of 18, hence the warning. There will be no descriptive sex, just angst, innuendo, and salty language. If this bothers you, don't read it. Simple as that.
Author's Notes II: Heavily inspired by the recent AU school fics by
marrymemerry and deleerium, and by the film Get Real. If you haven't seen it, do.Read Part One and Part Two.
**
Orlando told Elijah to wait in the hall for a moment while he straightened his room. “It’s a right pigsty, and I’d be embarrassed if you saw it like that,” he’d said before grinning and shutting the door. So there Elijah stood, in the hall, biting his pinkie nail. He could hear drawers being shut and papers being moved around, and in a few minutes, the door opened, and Orlando gestured for Elijah to go in.
Orlando’s bedroom was perfectly clean, and Elijah wondered how, if it had been such a mess, Orly’d gotten it so clean so fast. Even the walls were blank. “Nice,” Elijah finally said.
“I rather like it. It’s quiet in here, and my family won’t bother me if I’ve got the door shut. Sit anywhere.” Elijah walked over at sat on the foot of Orlando’s bed. Had he been looking, he’d have seen Orlando blush. “You want anything to drink? We’ve got softies, milk, orange juice, tea, and water.”
“Softies?”
“Coke. And possibly ginger ale. Oh, Sprite for certain.”
“Um, please. Coke.” Elijah smiled at Orlando and watched him head down the hall toward the stairs. His smile faded when he saw that Orlando was still limping slightly despite his best efforts to hide it.
When Elijah bent to tie his shoe, he noticed a corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under the bed. He got on his knees to investigate, and what he found made him worry. Shoved under Orlando’s bed, in seeming haste, were pictures of various famous men. Most were cut from magazines; a few were posters, but all still bore remnants of the cellophane tape that had kept them stuck to the walls. Stuck there, that was, until Elijah’s arrival. He quickly got to his feet and sat back upon Orly’s bed before Orly came back with their drinks.
It bothered Elijah that Orlando took his picture collection down on his account. It seemed as though after Elijah had dared mention Dom’s name, Orlando had begun acting strangely. Or strangely, at least, to Elijah. He was now starting to wonder if Orlando was really as apathetic as he’d acted the day before, or if he really did care what people thought of him.
“Did you want ice? I didn’t get you any because the Coke is cold, but I can go back down if you’d like.” Orlando stood in the doorway with two cans of Coke in his hands.
“Nah, that’s cool. No ice. Waters it down.”
“Too right it does.” Orlando handed one can to Elijah and went and sat on his desk chair. He opened the can, raised it in the air, and proposed a toast. “To no ice!”
“To no ice,” Elijah repeated, thinking of the hidden posters.
**
Elijah stayed at Orlando’s and had dinner with his family. Orly’s mum was a great cook, and he learnt that Orly was a vegetarian. “He won’t even eat chicken most days,” his mum had said, shaking her head. “I honestly wonder how he doesn’t waste away eating nothing but salad sandwiches.” Elijah’d giggled; Orlando’d blushed.
After the meal, the two boys went back up to Orlando’s room, where they sat on Orly’s bed and took turns telling filthy jokes and trading embarrassing stories. “Here’s one,” said Elijah, still in fits after Orly’s last joke. “Two old men go into a whorehouse and demand the two best whores in the place. Of course, the madam was having no part of it, giving her best girls to the geezers, but she wanted the old men’s money, so she told them to wait while she got their rooms ready. What she’d done was to put blow-up dolls in each room.
"When the madam went back to the old men, she made them promise not to turn the lights on in their rooms, because the girls were shy.”
“Who’s ever heard of a shy tart?”
“Shh! I’m telling the joke! Anyway, they promised, and went off to their separate rooms. The next morning, on their way home, the old men compared experiences. ‘Well,’ the first old guy said, ‘I think mine was dead.’
"‘Why’s that?’
"‘All she did all night was lie there!’
"‘Ah,’ said the second geezer, ‘I think mine was a witch.’
"‘Why?’
"‘Well, when I bit her nipple, she farted and flew out the window!’” Elijah could barely speak for laughing, and Orlando was laughing so hard, he fell back on the bed. When Elijah looked back at him, the giggling stopped.
“Don’t look at me like that, Sherm,” Orlando whispered, closing his eyes. “Please.”
“Like what?” Elijah was whispering now as well.
“Like that, like you want to kiss me.”
“But I do.”
Without opening his eyes, Orlando calmly said, “Get out.”
“Orl-”
“Out. Just get out. Please, Elijah?”
“I don’t unders-”
Orlando sat up, and stared Elijah directly in the face. “Do I have to paint you a bloody sign? Get the fuck out!” Without further comment, Elijah stood and walked out of the bedroom.
**
Out on the pavement, Elijah looked up at the first floor windows, hoping to see Orlando looking back at him. He didn’t.
Go to Part Four.
