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fellowshippers2002-08-31 05:55 pm
juweldom.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2002-08-31 05:55 pm
Part 6
Title: "Slightly Crooked"
Part: 6/? EW/SA, DM/SA
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com )
Rating: R this chapter
Pairings: Multiple Pairs for series.
Category: Romance, Angst, a lot of PWP
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: I do not know the actors and make no claims about their lifestyles or sexual preferences. This is purely fictional for entertainment purposes and no money is being made. Again--it might be true, but if it is, I sure as heck don't know the details!
Summary: The title says it all--it's a crooked path for crooked people to find love.
Notes: Thanks always to my beta reader LadySunrope!
*****
*Crooked*: Webster's Dictionary: 1. Not straight. 2. Dishonest.
*****
*Elijah*
Sean showed up a half hour early.
It was just as well; Elijah had not been able to sleep in. He'd gone to the gym but felt strange not having the other hobbits there (and Dom often came in on weekends--odd), so he returned early, took a shower, actually cleaned the apartment, surfed the net, smoked half a pack, ate (but didn't drink--ugh, slight hangover), and tried to sit still watching some local news coverage of the prior day's football/soccer match. As if he was going to see Sean and Dom kissing in the stands. Oh boy. What a loser he was.
Sean looked worse for wear. He was dressed nice enough, buttoned shirt and jeans, hair combed, but his face was pale and there were shadows under his eyes--he'd obviously not slept too well either. And he was nervous; Elijah had never seen him nervous before, and it wasn't a pretty sight--him, he was all outward energy and doing things, but Sean, it was all inner, and you could almost see the anxiety oozing out his ears. Or his eyes. They looked bloodshot and traumatized.
"So what happened?" Elijah got him a drink--a simple pop without caffeine, as he obviously didn't need any, and sat across from him on the recliner, flipping the little handle back and forth to contain his own energy as Sean wasn't too fond of him smoking around him.
Sean sat on the sofa staring into his drink, not moving, his lips pressed into a thin line. A commercial about soccer came on and he jumped and flushed. Elijah frowned and wondered what it would take to get him to open up. The room felt hot and tight.
Sean frowned and gripped the glass until Elijah thought it might shatter. "I . . ." He swallowed. "Dom . . ." Elijah saw his jaw clench, could practically hear him grind his teeth. "After the game, I was really drunk. I needed to crash for a bit; we went to Dom's place. We were talking about stuff and uh . . . shit. Fuck. He blew me, 'Lij. Right on his couch. And I was so drunk, I let him."
It was a good thing Elijah was already sitting; as it was, he felt the blood drain out of his face until the room began to spin, and found himself clutching the armrests until his fingers began to cramp. "You let . . ." What was he feeling? Was he angry? Hurt? Jealous? Yes, jealous--that was a good one to start with, though deep down there was a little sting of hurt he didn't really want to deal with, something to do with Dom choosing Sean in the first place. Jealous--yes. And outraged. And angry. Fuck that Monaghan.
"He fucking used you, is that what you're saying?" Now he had to get up and walk; he was going to tear apart the furniture if he sat there a moment longer.
Sean set aside the drink and wrung his hands, sitting hunched over as if his stomach pained him. "Oh 'Lij--I didn't mean to! I didn't know--never intended . . . but suddenly there he was, on me, and I--"
"I don't really want to know the details, Sean. Billy said he was a flirt--just a silly flirt, but that's not what you're telling me. Did you tell him no?" Elijah looked out the window, at the clear blue sky and the ocean in the distance. He had a sudden desire to rip the shades closed.
Sean put his face in his hands and said nothing.
Well okay, Elijah could understand that. If Dom jumped him and began . . . doing that . . . he'd probably wouldn't have been able to say no either. No, this was obviously only one person's fault. "I'm going to fucking kill him. Messing with you like that . . . and Christine? Have you told her yet?"
Sean rubbed at his neck, shaking his head. "I think I'm going to wait for the right moment on this one. She'll probably react the same as you, and want to take Dom out. That would not make Peter too happy, I think. But if I time it right and say it in just the right fashion, she'll laugh and think it's funny. I'm not *that* worried about telling her about Dom. It meant absolutely nothing--not for me, and not for him either, I think. You're going to be much harder to explain."
Elijah stood behind the couch, trying to work through that one. He studied the back of Sean's head, nothing how his friend wouldn't turn around to look at him. "What exactly does that mean, Sean? Why am I harder? You invited me--I didn't jump you." Elijah knew the difference, but he wasn't going to say it. The connection between them, like--like they'd always known each other.
"Dom meant nothing. You do. I--"
Elijah began pacing again, behind the couch, past the patio door to the balcony. "Please don't, Sean. Don't say anything else. I'm not ready to hear that," he broke in before Sean could say too much, before he could really make Elijah worry. He'd never had a real relationship with a guy--an emotional one--well, hell, with anyone, really. But no, he was not going to have one with Sean. Who was married. And his co-star. And a good friend. Which he might not be if things got serious then fell apart.
Sean sighed and craned his neck to look at him. "Elijah, can you sit down here for a moment? I know you're upset; but I'd like to talk face to face with you. Please, just for a moment. Right here," he said, and pointed to the space next to him.
Fine. Prove he could do it; just be a friend, nothing else. Even though the room seemed to hum when Sean was in it; even though he was getting ideas of running his hands along the inseams of his jeans, feel if he was affected as well. Shit--no. Stop it. Don't even let your thoughts go there, he thought. You're *not* going to ruin his life.
So Elijah sat down next to him, trying to look like he was relaxed. He knew he was failing miserably, but he did manage to keep his hands still, at his sides, and made himself look into Sean's eyes. His heart clenched.
Why did he feel so breathless, when Sean looked at him? This wasn't just physical attraction--though there was plenty of that too; but it was so much more. He longed to curl up into those arms, lose himself. "So what did you want to say?" His voice sounded cross, impatient. Good.
"Elijah--do you . . . is it just me? Am I the only one who . . ." Elijah scowled at Sean. Don't say it. Don't even fucking say it. Sean caught the look, and there was pain in his eyes, and uncertainty and fear, yes, and need. So much need. Ooh boy, and his mouth looked so inviting . . . Elijah willed himself to close his eyes. He was trembling with the denial, no, no, *no*. Couldn't. Mustn't. *Would not.*
Sean blew out a harsh breath. "Elijah, so help me, I'm going to strangle you if you don't look at me." His voice broke on the last word and that did it. Elijah had to look. No. He couldn't possibly be making someone . . . cry? Ah shit, that fucking did it; that broke the ice; he could feel the mask slipping. Couldn't stop staring at those eyes, bottomless, tender, loving. He drew in a shaky breath of his own, and let out a long sigh.
"Do you hate me now? Are you angry?" Oh no, he was doing that wounded puppy dog look. That was it. Elijah had to stand up or he was going kiss him. He crossed over in front of the TV, holding his arms over his chest, as if that could keep things contained.
"Yes--I--no. I don't hate you. But I *am* angry. I'm trying to stay back, Sean--I'm trying to be good. You are totally fucking Christine over and I don't want to be a part of that. Even though it's a real temptation, believe me." There. He'd said it. Said exactly what he'd needed to get out. He felt better already.
He heard Sean getting up, heard the creak of the furniture and the groan of the floorboards. He managed not to jump away when Sean put a tentative hand on his shoulder. Sean gripped him hard through the fabric of the T-shirt, saying nothing, but his breathing was loud, uneven. "I don't know what to do. I really don't. I don't know how we're going to work close together and not--when we both want . . . at least I *think* we both want. What about you? What do you really want? Do you think we can just be friends?" Sean was rubbing his back, and Elijah couldn't help it; he started leaning back against that hand, arching his back, practically purring. Crap. He was hard again. Sean was right; it was never going to work.
"I want . . ." he was going to tell him to leave, now, before things got any further. "I want . . ." Shit, why wouldn’t the words come? Just a few words--that's all it would take. Sean would stop if he told him to. But now Sean was moving his arms around to his front, pressing up against him, and Elijah could feel the hard ridge of him sliding into the crack of his ass and fucking shit, that was hot. He felt himself squirm against that contact, rubbing back to get more.
And the next thing he knew, he was turning around, wrapping his arms around Sean, and they were kissing, groaning into each other's mouths, tongues seeking out their wet crevices of each other's mouths. Elijah's hands roamed Sean's back, feeling the muscles bunch under his palms, while Sean's hand tangled in the short hair at the nape of Elijah's neck, holding him steady so he could fuck his mouth with his tongue. Elijah moaned low and deep.
Sean broke off the kiss, not him; he couldn't have stopped if bombs had gone off outside. "I want to give you pleasure this time. Sit down. Relax."
Yeah right; relax; when he was as tight as a fucking guitar string. But his legs didn't seem to be obeying him; he followed as Sean led him back to the couch, made him sit, and all he could do was stare as Sean started undoing his jeans, sliding his hand into his boxers to take his cock out--Elijah cried out and bucked his hips as Sean worked his hand on him, asking for more, gripping Sean's arm. But his voice failed him utterly when Sean bent down to take him into his mouth. Christ, he was so worked up, he wasn't going to be able to take much. The silky feel of his tongue on the underside and over the slit, that big generous hot mouth, the sight of Sean's cheeks hollowing as he sucked--sensations tore madly through him, concentrating on that one point.
"Sean--fuck, I'm gonna--" He tried to warn him, that it was crashing over him, so fast, so strong, and then he was coming into Sean's mouth, his hands twisting in Sean's hair--too fast--all of it. Way too fucking fast. And powerful.
Afterwards, Elijah's head fell back and he released his hold of Sean, a boneless puddle, completely spent. It was an effort even to open his eyes as Sean trailed kisses up his jaw and lightly across his lips. He simply stared a moment into Sean's face, a calm face now, calmly accepting. The thought eventually came to him that he hadn't taken care of Sean's needs yet. "Do you want me to--"
Sean shook his head, drawing back. "No. I probably shouldn't have done even that--you're probably right. We shouldn't be dong this, but I . . ." Looking torn, he wavered, lips parted, so ready to be kissed, pull down on top of Elijah and ravaged. Elijah leaned forward, raising himself up a little to pull him down. Sean backed away.
"I'd better go. I need to . . . need to think. See you on Monday." With that, he turned, walked to the front door, and left. Just like that.
Elijah sat blinking, waiting for the sensations in his body to settle into some normal mode again so he could move. What the fuck had that been about? What had just happened? Were they lovers? Friends? Shit; he was more confused now than ever.
Fixing his clothing and drinking down the rest of Sean's pop and his own water besides, Elijah went to the window, made sure Sean's car was gone. Grabbed the cordless, sat back down. Dialed Billy. God, he felt drained, empty, and utterly exhausted. And it was only about twelve-thirty. Half the day still to face, then tomorrow, back at the studio . . .
Billy wasn't home.
Okay, no reason to panic--he was probably at Dom's; the two of them always hung out together. He could do it; be civil to Dom for just a few seconds, long enough to find Billy. He dialed up number, rubbing his neck where a mother of a tension headache was building.
Dom answered. "Sean?"
Elijah felt his blood heat and bit back a cutting remark. Dom didn't have caller ID, obviously. "Elijah. Is Billy there?"
Instant coldness in Dom's voice. Elijah could swear the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. "Yeah, he's here."
"Can you put him on?" Elijah worried at the edge of a nail that just barely jutted out from the cuticle of his thumb. He needed another smoke.
"Right." A mumbled exchange between Dom and Billy; a rustle as the phone switched hands. Elijah hugged his knees to his chest and tried to keep his breathing steady, not break into tears or some such nonsense. Damn it; now his cuticle was bleeding. He wiped his thumb on his shirt.
"Billy here--how did the talk go?"
Elijah released a choked laugh, pathetic sounding, really. "Not too good. I think things are more messed up than ever. Did Dom tell you?" One thing he hated about cordless phones--no cord to wrap around and play with, keep the focus on. He needed to fiddle with something.
"You mean about Sean? Yes. And how are you about that?"
Elijah couldn't even force a laugh. His throat felt tight. "Do I have your permission to kill Dom?"
Billy did laugh, unconcerned, carefree. Elijah envied him. "Noo, I might just need him fer this movie we're making. Why don't you come on over? I think the two of you should talk. We all should, actually. I don't suppose ye can grab Sean, hmm?"
"Sean split. He blew me and split, Bill. How fucked up is that?" This was one time where Billy's calm manner was an irritant, sand against a sunburn to him. He needed somebody he could spout off to, who would understand.
Billy sobered immediately. "Christ. Come on over to Dom's, 'Lij. Come talk to me. We're friends. We're all going to stay friends, okay?"
Elijah nodded, covering his eyes with his hand, clutching the phone with the other. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be there in a few, then. Oh hey, and should I grab food on the way?" He suddenly realized he was starving.
That lilting voice was calming him, soothing him. "Yeah, good idea, mate. Grab some sandwiches or somethin'. We'll see you--hah, and we've got plenty of Guinness here as well. We'll make a regular party of it. See you, 'Lij. You take care of yourself, all right?"
"Right. See you." Elijah clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the cushions. Wondered if he'd be able to resist the urge to attack Dom the moment he saw him. But Billy was right; he was always right. They should all get this cleared up now, before filming began. He just wished he knew how to help Sean.
Billy would know what to do.
Hopefully.
He picked up his keys and left the apartment.
*****
TBC
*****
Part: 6/? EW/SA, DM/SA
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com )
Rating: R this chapter
Pairings: Multiple Pairs for series.
Category: Romance, Angst, a lot of PWP
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: I do not know the actors and make no claims about their lifestyles or sexual preferences. This is purely fictional for entertainment purposes and no money is being made. Again--it might be true, but if it is, I sure as heck don't know the details!
Summary: The title says it all--it's a crooked path for crooked people to find love.
Notes: Thanks always to my beta reader LadySunrope!
*****
*Crooked*: Webster's Dictionary: 1. Not straight. 2. Dishonest.
*****
*Elijah*
Sean showed up a half hour early.
It was just as well; Elijah had not been able to sleep in. He'd gone to the gym but felt strange not having the other hobbits there (and Dom often came in on weekends--odd), so he returned early, took a shower, actually cleaned the apartment, surfed the net, smoked half a pack, ate (but didn't drink--ugh, slight hangover), and tried to sit still watching some local news coverage of the prior day's football/soccer match. As if he was going to see Sean and Dom kissing in the stands. Oh boy. What a loser he was.
Sean looked worse for wear. He was dressed nice enough, buttoned shirt and jeans, hair combed, but his face was pale and there were shadows under his eyes--he'd obviously not slept too well either. And he was nervous; Elijah had never seen him nervous before, and it wasn't a pretty sight--him, he was all outward energy and doing things, but Sean, it was all inner, and you could almost see the anxiety oozing out his ears. Or his eyes. They looked bloodshot and traumatized.
"So what happened?" Elijah got him a drink--a simple pop without caffeine, as he obviously didn't need any, and sat across from him on the recliner, flipping the little handle back and forth to contain his own energy as Sean wasn't too fond of him smoking around him.
Sean sat on the sofa staring into his drink, not moving, his lips pressed into a thin line. A commercial about soccer came on and he jumped and flushed. Elijah frowned and wondered what it would take to get him to open up. The room felt hot and tight.
Sean frowned and gripped the glass until Elijah thought it might shatter. "I . . ." He swallowed. "Dom . . ." Elijah saw his jaw clench, could practically hear him grind his teeth. "After the game, I was really drunk. I needed to crash for a bit; we went to Dom's place. We were talking about stuff and uh . . . shit. Fuck. He blew me, 'Lij. Right on his couch. And I was so drunk, I let him."
It was a good thing Elijah was already sitting; as it was, he felt the blood drain out of his face until the room began to spin, and found himself clutching the armrests until his fingers began to cramp. "You let . . ." What was he feeling? Was he angry? Hurt? Jealous? Yes, jealous--that was a good one to start with, though deep down there was a little sting of hurt he didn't really want to deal with, something to do with Dom choosing Sean in the first place. Jealous--yes. And outraged. And angry. Fuck that Monaghan.
"He fucking used you, is that what you're saying?" Now he had to get up and walk; he was going to tear apart the furniture if he sat there a moment longer.
Sean set aside the drink and wrung his hands, sitting hunched over as if his stomach pained him. "Oh 'Lij--I didn't mean to! I didn't know--never intended . . . but suddenly there he was, on me, and I--"
"I don't really want to know the details, Sean. Billy said he was a flirt--just a silly flirt, but that's not what you're telling me. Did you tell him no?" Elijah looked out the window, at the clear blue sky and the ocean in the distance. He had a sudden desire to rip the shades closed.
Sean put his face in his hands and said nothing.
Well okay, Elijah could understand that. If Dom jumped him and began . . . doing that . . . he'd probably wouldn't have been able to say no either. No, this was obviously only one person's fault. "I'm going to fucking kill him. Messing with you like that . . . and Christine? Have you told her yet?"
Sean rubbed at his neck, shaking his head. "I think I'm going to wait for the right moment on this one. She'll probably react the same as you, and want to take Dom out. That would not make Peter too happy, I think. But if I time it right and say it in just the right fashion, she'll laugh and think it's funny. I'm not *that* worried about telling her about Dom. It meant absolutely nothing--not for me, and not for him either, I think. You're going to be much harder to explain."
Elijah stood behind the couch, trying to work through that one. He studied the back of Sean's head, nothing how his friend wouldn't turn around to look at him. "What exactly does that mean, Sean? Why am I harder? You invited me--I didn't jump you." Elijah knew the difference, but he wasn't going to say it. The connection between them, like--like they'd always known each other.
"Dom meant nothing. You do. I--"
Elijah began pacing again, behind the couch, past the patio door to the balcony. "Please don't, Sean. Don't say anything else. I'm not ready to hear that," he broke in before Sean could say too much, before he could really make Elijah worry. He'd never had a real relationship with a guy--an emotional one--well, hell, with anyone, really. But no, he was not going to have one with Sean. Who was married. And his co-star. And a good friend. Which he might not be if things got serious then fell apart.
Sean sighed and craned his neck to look at him. "Elijah, can you sit down here for a moment? I know you're upset; but I'd like to talk face to face with you. Please, just for a moment. Right here," he said, and pointed to the space next to him.
Fine. Prove he could do it; just be a friend, nothing else. Even though the room seemed to hum when Sean was in it; even though he was getting ideas of running his hands along the inseams of his jeans, feel if he was affected as well. Shit--no. Stop it. Don't even let your thoughts go there, he thought. You're *not* going to ruin his life.
So Elijah sat down next to him, trying to look like he was relaxed. He knew he was failing miserably, but he did manage to keep his hands still, at his sides, and made himself look into Sean's eyes. His heart clenched.
Why did he feel so breathless, when Sean looked at him? This wasn't just physical attraction--though there was plenty of that too; but it was so much more. He longed to curl up into those arms, lose himself. "So what did you want to say?" His voice sounded cross, impatient. Good.
"Elijah--do you . . . is it just me? Am I the only one who . . ." Elijah scowled at Sean. Don't say it. Don't even fucking say it. Sean caught the look, and there was pain in his eyes, and uncertainty and fear, yes, and need. So much need. Ooh boy, and his mouth looked so inviting . . . Elijah willed himself to close his eyes. He was trembling with the denial, no, no, *no*. Couldn't. Mustn't. *Would not.*
Sean blew out a harsh breath. "Elijah, so help me, I'm going to strangle you if you don't look at me." His voice broke on the last word and that did it. Elijah had to look. No. He couldn't possibly be making someone . . . cry? Ah shit, that fucking did it; that broke the ice; he could feel the mask slipping. Couldn't stop staring at those eyes, bottomless, tender, loving. He drew in a shaky breath of his own, and let out a long sigh.
"Do you hate me now? Are you angry?" Oh no, he was doing that wounded puppy dog look. That was it. Elijah had to stand up or he was going kiss him. He crossed over in front of the TV, holding his arms over his chest, as if that could keep things contained.
"Yes--I--no. I don't hate you. But I *am* angry. I'm trying to stay back, Sean--I'm trying to be good. You are totally fucking Christine over and I don't want to be a part of that. Even though it's a real temptation, believe me." There. He'd said it. Said exactly what he'd needed to get out. He felt better already.
He heard Sean getting up, heard the creak of the furniture and the groan of the floorboards. He managed not to jump away when Sean put a tentative hand on his shoulder. Sean gripped him hard through the fabric of the T-shirt, saying nothing, but his breathing was loud, uneven. "I don't know what to do. I really don't. I don't know how we're going to work close together and not--when we both want . . . at least I *think* we both want. What about you? What do you really want? Do you think we can just be friends?" Sean was rubbing his back, and Elijah couldn't help it; he started leaning back against that hand, arching his back, practically purring. Crap. He was hard again. Sean was right; it was never going to work.
"I want . . ." he was going to tell him to leave, now, before things got any further. "I want . . ." Shit, why wouldn’t the words come? Just a few words--that's all it would take. Sean would stop if he told him to. But now Sean was moving his arms around to his front, pressing up against him, and Elijah could feel the hard ridge of him sliding into the crack of his ass and fucking shit, that was hot. He felt himself squirm against that contact, rubbing back to get more.
And the next thing he knew, he was turning around, wrapping his arms around Sean, and they were kissing, groaning into each other's mouths, tongues seeking out their wet crevices of each other's mouths. Elijah's hands roamed Sean's back, feeling the muscles bunch under his palms, while Sean's hand tangled in the short hair at the nape of Elijah's neck, holding him steady so he could fuck his mouth with his tongue. Elijah moaned low and deep.
Sean broke off the kiss, not him; he couldn't have stopped if bombs had gone off outside. "I want to give you pleasure this time. Sit down. Relax."
Yeah right; relax; when he was as tight as a fucking guitar string. But his legs didn't seem to be obeying him; he followed as Sean led him back to the couch, made him sit, and all he could do was stare as Sean started undoing his jeans, sliding his hand into his boxers to take his cock out--Elijah cried out and bucked his hips as Sean worked his hand on him, asking for more, gripping Sean's arm. But his voice failed him utterly when Sean bent down to take him into his mouth. Christ, he was so worked up, he wasn't going to be able to take much. The silky feel of his tongue on the underside and over the slit, that big generous hot mouth, the sight of Sean's cheeks hollowing as he sucked--sensations tore madly through him, concentrating on that one point.
"Sean--fuck, I'm gonna--" He tried to warn him, that it was crashing over him, so fast, so strong, and then he was coming into Sean's mouth, his hands twisting in Sean's hair--too fast--all of it. Way too fucking fast. And powerful.
Afterwards, Elijah's head fell back and he released his hold of Sean, a boneless puddle, completely spent. It was an effort even to open his eyes as Sean trailed kisses up his jaw and lightly across his lips. He simply stared a moment into Sean's face, a calm face now, calmly accepting. The thought eventually came to him that he hadn't taken care of Sean's needs yet. "Do you want me to--"
Sean shook his head, drawing back. "No. I probably shouldn't have done even that--you're probably right. We shouldn't be dong this, but I . . ." Looking torn, he wavered, lips parted, so ready to be kissed, pull down on top of Elijah and ravaged. Elijah leaned forward, raising himself up a little to pull him down. Sean backed away.
"I'd better go. I need to . . . need to think. See you on Monday." With that, he turned, walked to the front door, and left. Just like that.
Elijah sat blinking, waiting for the sensations in his body to settle into some normal mode again so he could move. What the fuck had that been about? What had just happened? Were they lovers? Friends? Shit; he was more confused now than ever.
Fixing his clothing and drinking down the rest of Sean's pop and his own water besides, Elijah went to the window, made sure Sean's car was gone. Grabbed the cordless, sat back down. Dialed Billy. God, he felt drained, empty, and utterly exhausted. And it was only about twelve-thirty. Half the day still to face, then tomorrow, back at the studio . . .
Billy wasn't home.
Okay, no reason to panic--he was probably at Dom's; the two of them always hung out together. He could do it; be civil to Dom for just a few seconds, long enough to find Billy. He dialed up number, rubbing his neck where a mother of a tension headache was building.
Dom answered. "Sean?"
Elijah felt his blood heat and bit back a cutting remark. Dom didn't have caller ID, obviously. "Elijah. Is Billy there?"
Instant coldness in Dom's voice. Elijah could swear the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. "Yeah, he's here."
"Can you put him on?" Elijah worried at the edge of a nail that just barely jutted out from the cuticle of his thumb. He needed another smoke.
"Right." A mumbled exchange between Dom and Billy; a rustle as the phone switched hands. Elijah hugged his knees to his chest and tried to keep his breathing steady, not break into tears or some such nonsense. Damn it; now his cuticle was bleeding. He wiped his thumb on his shirt.
"Billy here--how did the talk go?"
Elijah released a choked laugh, pathetic sounding, really. "Not too good. I think things are more messed up than ever. Did Dom tell you?" One thing he hated about cordless phones--no cord to wrap around and play with, keep the focus on. He needed to fiddle with something.
"You mean about Sean? Yes. And how are you about that?"
Elijah couldn't even force a laugh. His throat felt tight. "Do I have your permission to kill Dom?"
Billy did laugh, unconcerned, carefree. Elijah envied him. "Noo, I might just need him fer this movie we're making. Why don't you come on over? I think the two of you should talk. We all should, actually. I don't suppose ye can grab Sean, hmm?"
"Sean split. He blew me and split, Bill. How fucked up is that?" This was one time where Billy's calm manner was an irritant, sand against a sunburn to him. He needed somebody he could spout off to, who would understand.
Billy sobered immediately. "Christ. Come on over to Dom's, 'Lij. Come talk to me. We're friends. We're all going to stay friends, okay?"
Elijah nodded, covering his eyes with his hand, clutching the phone with the other. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be there in a few, then. Oh hey, and should I grab food on the way?" He suddenly realized he was starving.
That lilting voice was calming him, soothing him. "Yeah, good idea, mate. Grab some sandwiches or somethin'. We'll see you--hah, and we've got plenty of Guinness here as well. We'll make a regular party of it. See you, 'Lij. You take care of yourself, all right?"
"Right. See you." Elijah clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the cushions. Wondered if he'd be able to resist the urge to attack Dom the moment he saw him. But Billy was right; he was always right. They should all get this cleared up now, before filming began. He just wished he knew how to help Sean.
Billy would know what to do.
Hopefully.
He picked up his keys and left the apartment.
*****
TBC
*****