home

Just archiving some older drabbles and ficlets I found on the work computer.

Just a drabble teaser for the FellowFic universe.

Orlando loves wrestling the hobbits, especially when he’s in full Legolas kit and they’re rendered harmless by the cumbersome feet.

He yanks on Billy’s wig, and when Billy spins to protest, he knocks him down, lets the hobbit fall.

Billy’s oomph is one of more than surprise, and the audience expands to include humans and one wizard, looking on tight–lipped.

Orlando bursts into giggles, and makes to help Billy up.

Billy backs away, frowning and red–faced, until Dominic lifts him. The hobbits stare at the elf, and as one they depart.

Orlando feels the change.

Playtime is over.

------------

For lotrips100 fairytale challenge.

Eleven o’clock, Glasgow

Billy’s dancing underneath the lights, moving past the awkwardness, the feeling of being clever and good looking and wanted.

The hands on his hips are mottled with drawings and doodles, but they’re still in better condition than Billy’s, ribboned and red from machinery burns.

“Like this?” Dominic whispers, grinding against Billy.

“Charming ...” Billy smiles back. His brand new clothes are wrinkling under the pressure.

“Right,” Dominic laughs softly. “I’m a prince ...”

Midnight, Glasgow

Billy wakes drenched in sweat, leaning against the loud, rushing bindery mechanism.

“Eyes open, Boyd,” his supervisor snorts. “The fuck you doing here barefoot?”

------------

For lotrips100 dream (I think) challenge.

Dominic envies their ability to sleep anywhere.

They rest, curled into each other like proper hobbits, while Dominic stands only feet away. If he moves any closer, he will be able to hear Elijah’s murmurs, see Billy’s hands trembling with cold.

Dominic wonders if they dream—of each other, of anything.

Sleep beckons Dominic, too, but he fights it, just as he fights the vision of Elijah’s body next to Billy’s.

When Dominic opens his eyes, Elijah is before him, smiling.

“Did you dream?” Elijah whispers—

And Dominic’s eyes rest on Billy, standing only feet away.

“I did,” Dominic nods.

------------

For mcee’s default icon challenge (see icon)

It is, Billy supposes, what makes him a little bit more of a grown–up than the others.

Yes, Astin wears a suit well, but there’s something of the high schooler still shoved underneath the nice fabric, the guy who would be far more comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt than his well–made suit. Astin looks like the headmaster of a crap school—and one who might be facing down a lawsuit, too—in a suit, and he knows it.

And Elijah, well. Elijah has been incapable of wearing a proper suit ever since that one night in London when they appeared so monochromatically perfect, walking the red carpet like brothers and falling, laughing in each other’s arms. It was only afterward, flicking ash in Dominic’s direction just to hear him bitch about it later, that Elijah made it clear that he’d be picking out his own clothes from now on, thanks—meaning they were to expect more velvet and denim and corduroy, and considerably less silk.

Dominic’s suits are indescribable, but always blinding and always beautiful in Dominic’s shaggy, unkempt way. Yes, Billy had chided him mercilessly about the whole t–shirt under the suit thing in New Zealand, and yes, Dominic had returned fire with a mighty “Well, fuck you, too, Bill. Not dressing for your approval. Not doing fucking anything for your approval.”

And Billy watched, stiff but still far more comfortable than the others, in his suit as Dominic and Elijah flirted and toyed and played with everyone along the carpet. He vaguely wished that Astin had been there, and blinked back his own surprise at that wish.

Of course, it was only minutes later that Dominic returned to sit next to him on the stage, joking and laughing but with eyes full of pain and apology, and Billy had no choice but to wrinkle his own suit and turn into Dominic’s side to listen and look.

So yes, Billy knows the virtues of his suits, and is pleased with the effect they seem to have in pictures. He feels taller when he’s well dressed, more in command, older in way that doesn’t make him feel old as such but—that’s the word, yeah, distinguished.

And as he sits in the makeup chair, getting ready to be interviewed for all of two and one quarter minutes for a science fiction cable channel—or is it a magazine? Billy has no idea—Billy reaches into the breast pocket of the suit jacket and pulls out a note he wrote himself during the very first interviews for Fellowship. It reads simply: Pippin, the feet, Wellington yes beautiful, Merry, friendship, surfing, no I live in Glasgow, yes of course we’re friends, music, beach house, life–changing, PJ, no I was an actor before this ...

Yes, I am the oldest.

Billy looks up into the makeup mirror and blinks hard. His hair has been brushed to within an inch of its admittedly fluffy life, and brushed forward, too, in a way Billy would never do himself. He looks different, softer somehow, and yet in the suit still—distinguished.

Billy’s certain that none of the other hobbits would recognize him like this, but Billy can see it, can see himself in this suit, can see himself as an adult, and he believes that he makes that adult thing work in a way that Astin cannot, Elijah will not, and Dominic knows not.

Pictures are taken, words exchanged, and then it is time to go. Billy makes to change his clothes, but catches sight of himself in the mirror once more. It is hard to let go of this image of himself, and so Billy clings to it, walking to the waiting car still in the suit, still fluffed and brushed to a standard of impeccable good taste that he suddenly loves.

He opens the door, and Dominic’s little shocked breath at his appearance will stay with Billy for days.

“You’re all grown up now,” Dominic pokes.

And Billy smiles.

------------


home