City of London, Part 9.
Nov. 11th, 2004 05:47 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 the first eight parts.
**
“Shower, shave, and shite,” Orlando told Elijah, picking clean clothes from his bureau. “Be right back.”
“More than I wanted to know, thanks.”
“That’s new.”
“Fuck off. I’m not that bad, am I?” Orlando didn’t answer, so Elijah rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Or you can come keep me company.”
“Ew! Not while you sh-” Elijah visibly recoiled, and Orlando snorted.
“Christ, it’s an expression! I’m just having a shower.” Orlando was laughing. “I like you, man, but I really don’t want you in there when I’m-”
“Okay! Okay, I got it. I’m an idiot.”
“All right, E-Li-Jah,” Orlando spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I am ha-ving a sho-wer now. Would you like to join me?”
“Not if you’re going to be a dick about it.” Elijah folded his arms over his chest and pouted.
“I’ll let you wash my hair.”
“Well, shit, in that case, I’m on it.”
**
Orlando stood in the tub when he turned on the taps. “We could have a bath, you know. Mum’s got some lovely lavender bath salts.” Elijah blinked and looked at Orly, standing there nude with one hand on the hot water tap. “Elijah? Relax, man. I was only joking.”
“Oh.” Elijah was actually disappointed; the bath salts he could have done without, but the bath idea itself was quite interesting. “I mean, I want to have a bath with you.”
“Really? Ow! Fuck!” Orlando’d forgotten to turn the hot tap off. “Let me get the sa-”
“But I don’t want to smell like lavender.”
“Right, then.” Orlando blushed. “Into the tub with you, young man, and don’t forget to scrub behind your ears.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Well, if you think I’m kissing you behind your filthy ears, you’ve got another think coming.”
**
“It’s been forever since I’ve had a bath. Kind of weird sitting here in a bathtub.”
“You said you wanted to,” Orlando said, flicking his wet fingers at Elijah’s face. “Now you’ve got to live with it.”
“I wasn’t complaining! I was just saying how weird it is.” Elijah reached for the plastic cup that sat perched on the edge of the bathtub and filled it with water. “Turn around and scoot back a bit and I’ll wash your hair.”
“Oh, Sherm, you’re so romantic!” Orlando sighed dramatically and tipped his head back, fluttering his eyelids at Elijah.
“Asshole.” Elijah poured the water over Orlando’s hair and watched as it cascaded over dark locks and smooth skin. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I-”
“What?”
“How did I end up here with you?”
“A fierce campaign of harassment on your part, really.” Orlando shook his head, throwing droplets of water at Elijah and all over the bathroom. “You were relentless.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
**
“What do you want to do today?” Orlando sat down on the couch and tucked his feet up under him. He sloshed the ice and water around in the glass in his hand, making the cubes clink together and against the glass itself.
“Don’t care. God Damnit, why are you so tall?” Elijah was wearing a pair of Orly’s tracksuit bottoms, and he kept tripping on the fabric that covered his feet well beyond his ankles. “I have to hitch these things way up to my armpits just to keep from killing myself.”
“If you were home now, what would you be doing?”
Elijah didn’t hesitate in giving his answer. “PlayStation.”
“PlayStation,” Orlando repeated dismally. “No footy in the park? Or baseball, or whatever it is you fucks play over there? If I were to spend my affies shut up in the house in front of the telly, my mum’d drag me by my ear out the door and lock it behind me.”
“Your whats?”
“My ears. Attached to the sides of my head.”
“No, the other thing. Avvies or whatever you said.”
“Af-fies,” Orlando rolled his eyes. “Af-ter-noons.”
“Speak Eng-lish.”
“I am. And by the time you leave here and head back to your PlayStation, you’ll have bloody well learnt to speak it as well. Come on, we’re going out!”
**
Elijah moved his chicken curry around the plate with his fork, trying hard to discern what the flat whitish things were as Orlando babbled incoherently with a mouthful of food.
“I said- it tastes better than it looks, I promise.”
“I think my mom’s old refrigerator was this exact same shade of yellow. When I was four.” Elijah impaled a crispy disc with the times of his fork and held it up to eye-level. “What the hell is this thing?”
“Water chestnut. Quite good actually. Ignore the texture and think about the taste.” As if to demonstrate, Orlando picked a slice of water chestnut from his own plate and popped it into his mouth. “Feels like a fried foam cup, but it tastes good.”
Elijah bit into the piece of vegetable on his fork and made a face. “Dude, that’s sick!” Diners within earshot of the boys’ table turned to look and an embarrassed flush crept across Elijah’s cheeks.
Orlando sputtered with laughter as he tried not to choke on the bite of chicken he’d just stuffed into his mouth. “Please forgive my friend,” he said, composing himself and holding up a hand. “He’s American.”
“Very funny. Now where the fuck can we go get some real food?”
“This is real food. It’s good for you. Now eat up. There are starving kids in Africa who’d kill for that little piece of carrot right there on your plate.”
“It’s all theirs.”
“Tell you what, Sherm,” Orlando said, leaning in closer to Elijah and lowering his voice. “You eat half your curry like a good lad, and I’ll give you something better to eat later.”
“It better be damn good- oh. Oh. Gotcha.”
**
After finally managing to convince him that changing into his own trousers was for the best, Elijah sat next to Orlando in the Leicester Square Tube waiting for the train to King’s Cross. They sat side by side on a bench, their hands discreetly touching. One of Orlando’s long fingers stroked the back of Elijah’s hand and Elijah had to focus on counting his breaths to keep from oozing out of his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Orlando staring straight at the gigantic posters on the rounded facing wall. Orlando’s nostrils flared with each outward breath, and a shiver went up Elijah’s spine.
“Mrs Watson won’t be home,” Elijah croaked, barely audible over the sounds of the people bustling around them. “She goes out to her garden club on Saturdays.”
“Mr Watson?”
“Dead.”
“Convenient, that.” Orlando cleared his throat and grinned wickedly at Elijah. “I mean, poor chap. Being dead must be terrible.”
“So, I did eat half my curry.”
“There you go, waffling on about yourself when poor Mr Watson’s dead.”
“Orly!” Elijah’s eyes were wide, and he was trying to suppress a laugh. “I don’t want to think about anyone being dead!”
“But lots of people are,” Orlando persisted. “You will be one day as well. Besides that, if I can keep my mouth busy yammering on about the deceased, it’ll be easier to keep it from wanting to attach itself to you.”
“There is no end to your weirdness, is there?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never looked for one.”
**
Orlando and Elijah walked into Mrs Watson’s flat, and Elijah called out to make sure she wasn’t at home. She’d left a note telling Elijah that there was a ham in the fridge if he wanted to eat it for supper, as she would be home late. If he had any questions, he could phone her at the Cunningham residence.
“So then,” Orlando said, stepping within an inch of Elijah and raising his chin with one finger. “You did eat half your curry.” Before Elijah could muster a response, Orlando’s mouth had covered his, and with the way Orlando’s tongue curled around his own, speech was no longer even possible.
Orlando’s hands found the hem of the too-big shirt Elijah was wearing and made short work of it, pulling it over Elijah’s head. Their kiss wasn’t broken for a full minute before their lips smashed back together. Seconds later, they separated again and Orlando’s shirt fell to the floor wrong side out. Taking Elijah’s trousers off was an easy task; one tug and they were around his ankles.
**
“I left my stuff at your house. All my homework and my school clothes.”
“Just get it tomorrow when you walk me home then. No big.” Orlando made a face as Elijah chewed a piece of ham.
“I take it you’re staying over?”
“Only if you brush your teeth twice. I’m not kissing anyone with ham breath.”
Go to Part Ten.
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 the first eight parts.
**
“Shower, shave, and shite,” Orlando told Elijah, picking clean clothes from his bureau. “Be right back.”
“More than I wanted to know, thanks.”
“That’s new.”
“Fuck off. I’m not that bad, am I?” Orlando didn’t answer, so Elijah rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Or you can come keep me company.”
“Ew! Not while you sh-” Elijah visibly recoiled, and Orlando snorted.
“Christ, it’s an expression! I’m just having a shower.” Orlando was laughing. “I like you, man, but I really don’t want you in there when I’m-”
“Okay! Okay, I got it. I’m an idiot.”
“All right, E-Li-Jah,” Orlando spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I am ha-ving a sho-wer now. Would you like to join me?”
“Not if you’re going to be a dick about it.” Elijah folded his arms over his chest and pouted.
“I’ll let you wash my hair.”
“Well, shit, in that case, I’m on it.”
**
Orlando stood in the tub when he turned on the taps. “We could have a bath, you know. Mum’s got some lovely lavender bath salts.” Elijah blinked and looked at Orly, standing there nude with one hand on the hot water tap. “Elijah? Relax, man. I was only joking.”
“Oh.” Elijah was actually disappointed; the bath salts he could have done without, but the bath idea itself was quite interesting. “I mean, I want to have a bath with you.”
“Really? Ow! Fuck!” Orlando’d forgotten to turn the hot tap off. “Let me get the sa-”
“But I don’t want to smell like lavender.”
“Right, then.” Orlando blushed. “Into the tub with you, young man, and don’t forget to scrub behind your ears.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Well, if you think I’m kissing you behind your filthy ears, you’ve got another think coming.”
**
“It’s been forever since I’ve had a bath. Kind of weird sitting here in a bathtub.”
“You said you wanted to,” Orlando said, flicking his wet fingers at Elijah’s face. “Now you’ve got to live with it.”
“I wasn’t complaining! I was just saying how weird it is.” Elijah reached for the plastic cup that sat perched on the edge of the bathtub and filled it with water. “Turn around and scoot back a bit and I’ll wash your hair.”
“Oh, Sherm, you’re so romantic!” Orlando sighed dramatically and tipped his head back, fluttering his eyelids at Elijah.
“Asshole.” Elijah poured the water over Orlando’s hair and watched as it cascaded over dark locks and smooth skin. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I-”
“What?”
“How did I end up here with you?”
“A fierce campaign of harassment on your part, really.” Orlando shook his head, throwing droplets of water at Elijah and all over the bathroom. “You were relentless.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
**
“What do you want to do today?” Orlando sat down on the couch and tucked his feet up under him. He sloshed the ice and water around in the glass in his hand, making the cubes clink together and against the glass itself.
“Don’t care. God Damnit, why are you so tall?” Elijah was wearing a pair of Orly’s tracksuit bottoms, and he kept tripping on the fabric that covered his feet well beyond his ankles. “I have to hitch these things way up to my armpits just to keep from killing myself.”
“If you were home now, what would you be doing?”
Elijah didn’t hesitate in giving his answer. “PlayStation.”
“PlayStation,” Orlando repeated dismally. “No footy in the park? Or baseball, or whatever it is you fucks play over there? If I were to spend my affies shut up in the house in front of the telly, my mum’d drag me by my ear out the door and lock it behind me.”
“Your whats?”
“My ears. Attached to the sides of my head.”
“No, the other thing. Avvies or whatever you said.”
“Af-fies,” Orlando rolled his eyes. “Af-ter-noons.”
“Speak Eng-lish.”
“I am. And by the time you leave here and head back to your PlayStation, you’ll have bloody well learnt to speak it as well. Come on, we’re going out!”
**
Elijah moved his chicken curry around the plate with his fork, trying hard to discern what the flat whitish things were as Orlando babbled incoherently with a mouthful of food.
“I said- it tastes better than it looks, I promise.”
“I think my mom’s old refrigerator was this exact same shade of yellow. When I was four.” Elijah impaled a crispy disc with the times of his fork and held it up to eye-level. “What the hell is this thing?”
“Water chestnut. Quite good actually. Ignore the texture and think about the taste.” As if to demonstrate, Orlando picked a slice of water chestnut from his own plate and popped it into his mouth. “Feels like a fried foam cup, but it tastes good.”
Elijah bit into the piece of vegetable on his fork and made a face. “Dude, that’s sick!” Diners within earshot of the boys’ table turned to look and an embarrassed flush crept across Elijah’s cheeks.
Orlando sputtered with laughter as he tried not to choke on the bite of chicken he’d just stuffed into his mouth. “Please forgive my friend,” he said, composing himself and holding up a hand. “He’s American.”
“Very funny. Now where the fuck can we go get some real food?”
“This is real food. It’s good for you. Now eat up. There are starving kids in Africa who’d kill for that little piece of carrot right there on your plate.”
“It’s all theirs.”
“Tell you what, Sherm,” Orlando said, leaning in closer to Elijah and lowering his voice. “You eat half your curry like a good lad, and I’ll give you something better to eat later.”
“It better be damn good- oh. Oh. Gotcha.”
**
After finally managing to convince him that changing into his own trousers was for the best, Elijah sat next to Orlando in the Leicester Square Tube waiting for the train to King’s Cross. They sat side by side on a bench, their hands discreetly touching. One of Orlando’s long fingers stroked the back of Elijah’s hand and Elijah had to focus on counting his breaths to keep from oozing out of his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Orlando staring straight at the gigantic posters on the rounded facing wall. Orlando’s nostrils flared with each outward breath, and a shiver went up Elijah’s spine.
“Mrs Watson won’t be home,” Elijah croaked, barely audible over the sounds of the people bustling around them. “She goes out to her garden club on Saturdays.”
“Mr Watson?”
“Dead.”
“Convenient, that.” Orlando cleared his throat and grinned wickedly at Elijah. “I mean, poor chap. Being dead must be terrible.”
“So, I did eat half my curry.”
“There you go, waffling on about yourself when poor Mr Watson’s dead.”
“Orly!” Elijah’s eyes were wide, and he was trying to suppress a laugh. “I don’t want to think about anyone being dead!”
“But lots of people are,” Orlando persisted. “You will be one day as well. Besides that, if I can keep my mouth busy yammering on about the deceased, it’ll be easier to keep it from wanting to attach itself to you.”
“There is no end to your weirdness, is there?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never looked for one.”
**
Orlando and Elijah walked into Mrs Watson’s flat, and Elijah called out to make sure she wasn’t at home. She’d left a note telling Elijah that there was a ham in the fridge if he wanted to eat it for supper, as she would be home late. If he had any questions, he could phone her at the Cunningham residence.
“So then,” Orlando said, stepping within an inch of Elijah and raising his chin with one finger. “You did eat half your curry.” Before Elijah could muster a response, Orlando’s mouth had covered his, and with the way Orlando’s tongue curled around his own, speech was no longer even possible.
Orlando’s hands found the hem of the too-big shirt Elijah was wearing and made short work of it, pulling it over Elijah’s head. Their kiss wasn’t broken for a full minute before their lips smashed back together. Seconds later, they separated again and Orlando’s shirt fell to the floor wrong side out. Taking Elijah’s trousers off was an easy task; one tug and they were around his ankles.
**
“I left my stuff at your house. All my homework and my school clothes.”
“Just get it tomorrow when you walk me home then. No big.” Orlando made a face as Elijah chewed a piece of ham.
“I take it you’re staying over?”
“Only if you brush your teeth twice. I’m not kissing anyone with ham breath.”
Go to Part Ten.
