City of London, Part 10.
Nov. 16th, 2004 07:19 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 nine parts.
**
“I can’t concentrate with you sitting there like that.” Elijah looked up from his spot on Orlando’s bedroom floor to see him sitting propped up against his headboard, long legs extended out in front of him and a book on his lap. A pencil was dangling from Orly’s mouth, held between his teeth by the rubber end.
“Like what?”
“Like that.” Elijah swallowed and gestured toward Orlando. “Like a dishevelled schoolboy.”
“Well, I am a schoolboy. I certainly don’t do all this sciencey shite for grins and giggles. And that I’m in this unkempt state is your fault. Reap what you sow, Sherm.” Orlando leered lewdly at Elijah, and went back to chewing his pencil. “Besides that, we're almost finished. Then maybe we can dishevel you so you won’t feel so left out.”
“You’re almost finished. I’ve still got half a diagram to colour in.”
“What the sodding hell have you been doing all this time?”
“You have the yellow. I wanted to make my pancreas yellow.”
“I’ll make your pancreas yellow, all right. Jesus, man, you could have just asked me for it.” Orlando scrounged around on the duvet for errant coloured pencils and handed them down to Elijah. “Here, let me fill in your worksheet with my answers whilst you’re colouring your bloody yellow pancreas.”
“How do I know your answers aren’t wrong?” Elijah raised a questioning eyebrow at Orlando.
“How do you know pancreases are yellow?”
“Fine. Just do it lightly so I can erase it and re-write it later.”
“Shut it and colour your pancreas.”
**
By the time Elijah’d gotten to King’s Cross, he’d remembered he hadn’t phoned his family all weekend. In all the time he’d spent with Orly, he just never gotten around to it. And he did not have the energy to stay up late to wait for a decent hour to call home. Thinking about the reason he was so tired made him blush and feel all the more guilty for forgetting his family. Hannah’d understand, though. His mother probably wouldn’t, but that was something Elijah’d grown used to. Debbie Wood wasn’t the most accepting of her younger son’s lifestyle, and blamed it on the fact that his father hadn’t been around. She was convinced that if Warren hadn’t left them, Elijah would have had a proper male influence in his life and would not have suffered at being raised by a woman alone. Never mind that Zach hadn’t gone through the same ‘phase’ that Elijah was now in. And it was, according to Debbie, just a phase. She’d minced no words in saying she was counting on the year in London to straighten him out- pun intended.
“Sorry, Mom,” Elijah muttered as he pushed the front door open. Mrs Watson was sitting on the couch, sewing a button back onto the cuff of a shirtsleeve.
“Did you say something, dear?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I was just thinking how I forgot to call my mom.”
“She rang for you, love. I told her you were out with that nice Orly chap from school.” Seeing Elijah go nearly white, Mrs Watson put her sewing down and went over to him. “Are you all right?”
“Was she mad? Was my mom mad?”
“Well, naturally, she was a bit disappointed at not having been able to speak with you, though she did understand that you were studying.” Elijah nodded, and Mrs Watson drew him into a hug. “I know you’re homesick. Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel a bit better? Are you hungry?”
“A little.” Elijah was ravenous. He and Orlando hadn’t eaten since the breakfast of currant scones, bacon, and milk Mrs Watson had given them earlier that morning. They’d divided their time unevenly between doing school work and making out. “But don’t worry, Mrs Watson, I’ll find something in the fridge.”
“Codswallop!” She swatted Elijah on the shoulder. “You’re in my care, and care for you I will do!”
Elijah sat at the kitchen table and watched as Mrs Watson prepared a sandwich from the leftover ham. He’d twice offered to help, but was lovingly scolded back into his chair, able to do nothing but watch. He thought of his own grandmother and the way she used to work in the kitchen, singing as she cooked. As if reading Elijah’s thoughts, Mrs Watson began to hum.
**
Sunday night was fitful for Elijah. He had horrid nightmares no doubt brought on by the anxiety of his second week of school. It wasn’t the school as much as the students in it, and now that they were on to him, his life was sure to be more of a challenge than he had wanted it to be. The only bright spot Elijah could see was Orlando, and Orlando certainly was bright. As clichéd and corny as it sounded in his mind, Elijah was sure that he and Orly together could withstand whatever Dominic and his friends threw at them.
**
“Orly.” Elijah watched in the mirror as the two syllables rolled off his tongue. He tried it again with Orlando, watching the way his mouth formed the round o’s at either end of the name. He smirked at his reflection and squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush. “You’re an idiot,” he said aloud to the boy facing him. “Next thing you know, you’ll be writing Elijah Bloom on your notebook and reading Seventeen for tips on how to make your boyfriend happy.”
Go to Part Eleven.
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 nine parts.
**
“I can’t concentrate with you sitting there like that.” Elijah looked up from his spot on Orlando’s bedroom floor to see him sitting propped up against his headboard, long legs extended out in front of him and a book on his lap. A pencil was dangling from Orly’s mouth, held between his teeth by the rubber end.
“Like what?”
“Like that.” Elijah swallowed and gestured toward Orlando. “Like a dishevelled schoolboy.”
“Well, I am a schoolboy. I certainly don’t do all this sciencey shite for grins and giggles. And that I’m in this unkempt state is your fault. Reap what you sow, Sherm.” Orlando leered lewdly at Elijah, and went back to chewing his pencil. “Besides that, we're almost finished. Then maybe we can dishevel you so you won’t feel so left out.”
“You’re almost finished. I’ve still got half a diagram to colour in.”
“What the sodding hell have you been doing all this time?”
“You have the yellow. I wanted to make my pancreas yellow.”
“I’ll make your pancreas yellow, all right. Jesus, man, you could have just asked me for it.” Orlando scrounged around on the duvet for errant coloured pencils and handed them down to Elijah. “Here, let me fill in your worksheet with my answers whilst you’re colouring your bloody yellow pancreas.”
“How do I know your answers aren’t wrong?” Elijah raised a questioning eyebrow at Orlando.
“How do you know pancreases are yellow?”
“Fine. Just do it lightly so I can erase it and re-write it later.”
“Shut it and colour your pancreas.”
**
By the time Elijah’d gotten to King’s Cross, he’d remembered he hadn’t phoned his family all weekend. In all the time he’d spent with Orly, he just never gotten around to it. And he did not have the energy to stay up late to wait for a decent hour to call home. Thinking about the reason he was so tired made him blush and feel all the more guilty for forgetting his family. Hannah’d understand, though. His mother probably wouldn’t, but that was something Elijah’d grown used to. Debbie Wood wasn’t the most accepting of her younger son’s lifestyle, and blamed it on the fact that his father hadn’t been around. She was convinced that if Warren hadn’t left them, Elijah would have had a proper male influence in his life and would not have suffered at being raised by a woman alone. Never mind that Zach hadn’t gone through the same ‘phase’ that Elijah was now in. And it was, according to Debbie, just a phase. She’d minced no words in saying she was counting on the year in London to straighten him out- pun intended.
“Sorry, Mom,” Elijah muttered as he pushed the front door open. Mrs Watson was sitting on the couch, sewing a button back onto the cuff of a shirtsleeve.
“Did you say something, dear?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I was just thinking how I forgot to call my mom.”
“She rang for you, love. I told her you were out with that nice Orly chap from school.” Seeing Elijah go nearly white, Mrs Watson put her sewing down and went over to him. “Are you all right?”
“Was she mad? Was my mom mad?”
“Well, naturally, she was a bit disappointed at not having been able to speak with you, though she did understand that you were studying.” Elijah nodded, and Mrs Watson drew him into a hug. “I know you’re homesick. Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel a bit better? Are you hungry?”
“A little.” Elijah was ravenous. He and Orlando hadn’t eaten since the breakfast of currant scones, bacon, and milk Mrs Watson had given them earlier that morning. They’d divided their time unevenly between doing school work and making out. “But don’t worry, Mrs Watson, I’ll find something in the fridge.”
“Codswallop!” She swatted Elijah on the shoulder. “You’re in my care, and care for you I will do!”
Elijah sat at the kitchen table and watched as Mrs Watson prepared a sandwich from the leftover ham. He’d twice offered to help, but was lovingly scolded back into his chair, able to do nothing but watch. He thought of his own grandmother and the way she used to work in the kitchen, singing as she cooked. As if reading Elijah’s thoughts, Mrs Watson began to hum.
**
Sunday night was fitful for Elijah. He had horrid nightmares no doubt brought on by the anxiety of his second week of school. It wasn’t the school as much as the students in it, and now that they were on to him, his life was sure to be more of a challenge than he had wanted it to be. The only bright spot Elijah could see was Orlando, and Orlando certainly was bright. As clichéd and corny as it sounded in his mind, Elijah was sure that he and Orly together could withstand whatever Dominic and his friends threw at them.
**
“Orly.” Elijah watched in the mirror as the two syllables rolled off his tongue. He tried it again with Orlando, watching the way his mouth formed the round o’s at either end of the name. He smirked at his reflection and squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush. “You’re an idiot,” he said aloud to the boy facing him. “Next thing you know, you’ll be writing Elijah Bloom on your notebook and reading Seventeen for tips on how to make your boyfriend happy.”
Go to Part Eleven.
