He picked up his drink -- vodka, neat -- downed it in one long swallow. And only choked a little bit at the burn. Tolerance was building. Cool. He glanced furtively at the rest of the group seated on the sofa, faces illuminated by the flickering glow of the television, and stood, stretching casually. "Refill," he murmured, alibi set. Viggo simply nodded; Billy, Dom and Karl ignored him, instead leaning forward as one person on the edge of the sofa. "C'mon," Karl breathed, hands clenched. For some, soccer wasn't just a game. Elijah didn't get it, but he admired his friends' enthusiasm, never more so than at this moment. Orlando was bent over, refrigerator door open, muttering something to himself about open containers and questioning Billy's heritage, when Elijah finally made his way into the kitchen. Elijah faltered for a moment -- stared at the tanned strip of skin peeking from between Orlando's low-slung jeans and t-shirt riding up his back. Would it taste as good as it looked -- all salty and firm under Elijah's questing tongue? The swinging door slammed into him, propelling him forward, and he mumbled something that was supposed to be "Needed a refill on my drink," but came out "Needfill". Orlando turned and smiled. "What?" Elijah simply held up his empty glass in lieu of a reply. Safer that way. He was pretty sure he was incapable of speech at the moment. Something about big brown eyes and drowning, but he couldn't think past the stone in his stomach and the bulge in his jeans. "Should take it easy, Elwood." Orlando smiled again -- he was always smiling -- and plucked Elijah's glass from nerveless fingers. "Early call tomorrow." "One more." Orlando looked at him, tapping his chin with one finger. "Only because you asked so nice." He ruffled the top of Elijah's head affectionately and turned toward the counter, rifling through the various bottles. Elijah gulped, took a shuddering breath. Together, get it together, focus, for fuck's sake. One step -- good. Two -- better. Three -- behind Orlando now, inhaling his crisp, clean scent. Another deep breath...reach forward, lightly brush across that patch of bare skin, feel the shimmer, the heat. Elijah jumped when Orlando did a half-turn, vodka bottle loosely held in one hand. "You alright?" Orlando asked, voice laced with concern. No. "Yeah, I'm --" Bit his lip, pushing out the words before he lost his nerve. "Wantyou." Orlando raised an eyebrow, still looked clueless. "Pardon?" The words came a little more easily the second time. Or the vodka was finally starting to take effect, one. Elijah didn't know, didn't care. "Want you." Orlando laughed airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?" he asked on a mock-sigh, turning back to the counter. "I'm serious!" Elijah raked a hand through his spiky hair, then closed sweaty fingers around Orlando's arm. "I want you." This time, Orlando's sigh was real. He turned again, glanced down at Elijah's hand on him before lifting his head. His eyes were surprisingly sympathetic. "You can't have me. We've talked about this." 'I know, I just --" Fuck, stop fumbling about, and fucking find the words! "I was hoping you'd..." Elijah shrugged, dropped his hand. "I'm not going to change my mind." Orlando's hand drifted across Elijah's cheek in a friendly gesture. "You know why." "Yeah, yeah, okay." Elijah nodded, the motion jerky, and knew his ears were bright red. He accepted his refilled glass without looking up. "I'll give you a minute, eh?" Another soft pat on his cheek, and Orlando made a move to leave. "No, no, I'll go out first." It was important -- Elijah couldn't explain it. He just knew he had to be the first person to walk out the door. "Alright." Elijah risked a quick glance into Orlando's still friendly, still smiling eyes, and managed a very quick smile in return before backing hastily out of the kitchen, mind a blessed blank. Laughter spilled from the sofa -- must be a commercial break -- and both Viggo and Dom looked up with identical grins. "What, too good to get me anything?" Viggo teased. Elijah managed a snort. "I'm a child star, I don't fetch." Very old, well-worn joke. "I'll remind you of that next time you want something," Dom grinned. "Mmhmm." Elijah wiggled his way past the bodies on the sofa, paused when he reached Karl, looked down into a friendly, open face and a ready smile. "Lose something?" Karl asked, lounging back, beer dangling loosely in one hand. Yeah, Elijah thought, but it's alright, since I never had it to begin with. "Just a few brain cells," he replied, holding up his glass. "Might want to be careful about that." Karl winked, then looked past Elijah, and his soft, bright smile was like watching the sun burst from behind a storm cloud. Elijah didn't need to turn to see why Karl was smiling like that, didn't need to see the answering smile. He flopped next to Billy, leaned against a bony, strong shoulder. "Tired," he muttered, tried not to watch Orlando drape himself on Karl's lap with a laughing kiss. "Too much to drink," Billy said, neatly taking the glass from Elijah's hand, and draping a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Rest awhile, then I'll take you home." "Alright." Elijah snuggled into Billy's warmth, ignored the sharp sting behind his closed eyelids, and dreamed of bright smiles and patches of bare skin.
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