Fic: Football (Part 1)

Jan 07, 2004 18:53

Title: Football (Part 1)
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Author: deleerium
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando’s the small town high school quarterback. Elijah’s a transfer student with football savvy.
Disclaimer: here.
Notes: re-posted Jan 2011 to author's LJ here.



Elijah slammed open the locker room door. He dropped his backpack on a wooden bench and ripped open the plastic saran covering on a Lockhart High School polo shirt. The empty locker room smelled of new carpet, leather and sweat.

He flapped the polo partially open and reached behind his head to grab a fist full of blue t-shirt. One sharp tug and rumpled hair later, he fumbled with the armholes on the new polo, flipping it over his head and tugging impatiently on the still stiff cotton.

He glanced in a mirror on the end of one of the long rows of lockers and paused. He traced a finger over the ‘Manager’ printed in black block letters just under the high school logo.

Not bad for missing tryouts.

Elijah contemplated the strangeness of watching the team from the other side of the lines. He snorted and rolled his eyes. A first quarter transferring senior couldn’t afford to be picky, especially as he’d moved from one small town in Iowa to another in south Texas. At least he’d still be on the field during games.

He stuffed his t-shirt into the top of his backpack and picked it up, flipping open locker after locker. Three lockers down, the bottom shelf was empty. He shoved the backpack hastily inside and kicked the door shut.

He snagged a game book off the table at the end of the room and half jogged out the field door. The team had been on the field for nearly an hour.

+

“You fucking pansies! It’s not HOT, it’s Texas! Now MOVE!”

Elijah grinned as he loped up next to the cluster of coaches standing on the sidelines.

“Hey, Coach.”

Peter Jackson, Head Coach, Lockhart High School Lions, Lockhart, Texas, turned around. “Wood, glad you’re here. Any problems with the change in schedule?”

Elijah shook his head. “None, sir.”

“Excellent. This is Coach Urban and Coach Sinclair. Boys, meet Elijah Wood, new team manager. Transferred in from Cedar Rapids just today. Was on special teams up there for the last four years. Couldn’t get him on the team, of course - not without tryouts. Thought we could use him as manager since Sean’s dropped out and enlisted. Wood, see to those coolers over there - the mix is in the back cabinet in the locker room. Then I want you to survey the scrimmage. Give us a hand keeping up with who needs work.”

“Yes, sir.” Elijah hid his grimace at having to put out the drinks. He shrugged it off almost immediately. He’d appreciated a cold drink when he’d practiced in the past. He set of at a brisk walk back towards the field house. This was going to be a hell of a job.

+

Elijah checked over the table of coolers, stacks of iced towels and cups. He sent an assistant manager to round up more cups, then headed for the sidelines, taking a seat on the metal bench. He cursed as the heat burned through the denim of his jeans, rocking back and forth for a moment while his skin adjusted to the broiling temperature.

He flipped open the playbook and skimmed through a couple of pages, the toes of his sneakers roll-poking into the dirt under the bench.

After getting a general feel for the team’s plays, he looked up, watching as lines of players formed up against one another. There was a silent moment of anticipation, then the high-pitched burr of a whistle launched the young men across the few feet that separated them.

Elijah grinned at the sound of plastic pads and cloth scraping and slamming into one another, the dull clatter of helmets colliding and the low grunts and loud growls of the defense line. The line held and a tall player backed gracefully away from the clattering bodies, the football clasped lightly between the tips of long fingers.

Elijah watched the quick dart of the quarterback’s head as he scanned the field. He pointed. Not with his finger, but with a slight lift of one elbow. He took a long step back.

There was no preliminary slap of the ball against a hand, no struggle for balance, no panicked toss of the leather into wasteful air, no confused half-motions in different directions. None of that.

Just one long step back and the arm snapped back and released. Slingshot and the ball was airborne, a bullet slicing just over the heads of battling players and snap, nailing a tight end in the center of his chest.

Elijah let out the breath he’d been holding.

That was fuckin’ nice.

Elijah watched the next few plays with slack-jawed fascination. His eyes kept moving to the quarterback, following the quick grace of long legs, the curved muscle under partial padding as he bent close over the center’s back. Once, a low laugh carried over the taunts and jeers as he moved back, ball in hand. Another lightening throw and the ball slammed into a padded chest.

Elijah dragged his gaze away, forcing himself to pay attention to the other men on the field. He was supposed to be watching for players who needed improvement.

+

Orlando rested the side of his helmet against the hard padding. He curled further over the wide back of the man in front of him. He could feel the heat of the other player along the outside of his arms, snug and pressed hard under the wide spread legs. The backs of his hands rested loosely in the curve between the other man’s inner thigh and the hard plastic of his athletic cup. The tips of Orlando’s fingers itched. He could feel the football stabbed motionless into the turf between their legs.

“Thirty five. Hup!” Orlando leapt back as soon as the worn leather brushed against his palm. The front line held, so he took his time. He gazed across the field. Dom was running along the forty, arms raised. Orlando gave a slight negative shake of his head; Billy was coming up on Dom’s blind side.

Orlando’s eyes moved again, tracking another player to the edge of the field. His gaze caught and held, distracted by a figure on what should have been an empty bench.

Who’s tha…”Fuck.” Orlando grunted as the body slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Shit. He blinked rapidly to clear the stars and waited patiently for air to surge back into his lungs. He sighed and rolled to his feet.

“Bloom. You forget there was another team, son? Forget there were mean some-bitches who might just want to come sit on your narrow ass?”

“Sorry, coach.”

“Sorry won’t save you from bein’ a park bench at the game next week.”

“Won’t happen again, coach.”

“Damn straight, Bloom. All right gentlemen, give me a mile and you can hit the showers.” There was a chorus of groans as the team headed at a slow lope around the field.

Orlando tossed the ball to one of the assistant managers and saw the new guy wrote down a few notes and then headed for the coaches. Orlando contemplated the tops of his cleats until he was parallel to the group of men. He looked up.

Eyes.

And…

Blue.

The cleat’s on Orlando’s right shoe decided to attach themselves to the turf and trip him at that precise moment. He cursed under his breath, covering the misstep with an awkward acceleration into a slow jog. He didn’t look at the new guy again.

+

Elijah looked up as the quarterback approached, face partially obscured by the helmet he still wore. Elijah blamed his slightly accelerated heart rate on the heat.

Because an insta-crush on someone he hadn’t even seen was almost as ridiculous as a crush on the - please, the high school quarterback? - which was nearly as ridiculous as having a crush on a guy.

Period.

Though there was Greg, back in junior high.

And maybe he should count that guy last year at band camp, however brief their…whatever. Though, technically, he’d still been going out with Liv at the time.

Elijah blinked, trying to focus on the coach rattling off his responsibilities as team manager. He let the running blur of the quarterback fade out of sight.

+

“Gentlemen, this is Elijah Wood. He’s taking’ over for Sean as team manager. I’d appreciate it if you’d show him the ropes.” Peter clapped Elijah firmly on the shoulder and headed out of the locker room. Elijah stood for a moment, awkward in the staring silence. He cleared his throat. “Nice to meet all of you. Let me know if I can help with…whatever, alright?”

There were a few nods before most of the half-dressed guys turned back towards their lockers. A pair of blonde’s leaned close and whispered into each other’s ears. One of the two nodded, then the pair headed for Elijah. “Hey. I’m Dom and this is Billy. Offensive team.”

Elijah controlled his urge to snicker. “Yeah, caught you this afternoon at practice. Nice to meet you.”

“Same. You haven’t been a manger before, have you?”

Elijah flushed. “Not exactly. I was actually on my…”

“Excuse me, this yours?”

Elijah looked distractedly over his shoulder and paused. His mouth opened. Then closed. Actually forming words was suddenly an issue.

Standing behind him was a tall, dark-haired, bedroom-eyed, smooth-skinned, wet, towel-wrapped specimen of yes-Greek-gods-do-exist-manhood.

Holding his backpack.

The muscles all along the length of the young man’s arms flexed as he lifted the heavy backpack again, holding it easily towards Elijah.

Elijah blinked. Oh. Shit.

That’s the quarterback?

Elijah managed to drag his eyes back up to the too-pretty face just as he glimpsed copper nipples, beaded in the cool room. Fucking don’t look below the waist in a locker room, Wood. You know better.

Orlando had the sudden urge to blush. A thousand times in dozens of locker rooms and suddenly he felt naked. Even in a towel. And they’re really really blue, aren’t they? “Hey, this yours man?”

“Uh…yeah. Yes. Thanks.” Elijah took the bag. He flinched and grabbed further along the strap as his fingers made contact with Orlando’s hand.

“No problem. I’ll tell coach to find you a locker. Wood, was it?”

“Elijah. Wood. Yeah. New manager.”

Orlando grinned and stuck out his hand. “Got that part, man. I’m Orlando. Orlando Bloom. Welcome to the team, Lij…Elijah.”

Elijah took the offered hand, shaking it firmly and letting go quickly. “Lij is fi…”

“He’s the star quarterback.” Elijah flinched as the arm was thrown over his shoulder. He turned to study Billy’s profile. Billy rattled on, pointing at Orlando. “Southwest Conference all-American two years in a row. Senior Honor’s student. Dating the head cheerleader - for four years, now. Every teacher’s pet. Hell, he even has good taste in clothes. Disgustin’ really.”

“Oh.”

“Shut your yaps, you two.” There was a feint pink tinge high on Orlando’s cheeks. He busied himself pulling clothes out of his locker.

Dom snorted and threw an arm over Elijah’s other shoulder. “He’s fuckin’ modest too. Which sucks, because you should hate him for being so fuckin’ perfect, but you can’t, because he‘s so fuckin’ sweet. Come on, we’ll show you around.”

“Just don’t scare him off, guys. We need a manager.”

Billy and Dom each raised a middle finger over their shoulders. Elijah could hear Orlando’s low chuckle as they dragged him out of the room.

Elijah sighed with a smile and resigned himself to a boisterous tour.

Ok. So maybe this manager thing doesn’t suck.

+

Orlando‘s grin faded as he watched the three young men head between the row of lockers towards the doors. His eyes dropped from the backs of their heads, over nicely broad shoulders to narrow waists. Out of his control, his eyes dipped below the crunched folds of their t-shirts at their waistbands and settled on the flexing curves of muscle just beneath.

This time Orlando flushed hot pink and glanced quickly around. None of the guys were paying attention. He dropped his head and stared, head down into his locker for just a moment before looking up again. Peering under his lashes, he caught the last swaying stride as the trio rounded the corner out of sight. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze again, reaching for his jeans.

Blue eyes and…

He cleared his throat again.

Fuck. Of the three, his was…the…nicest? Roundest? Something.

And he’s almost…pretty. For a guy.

Orlando flushed again, a frown creasing his brow. This series of thoughts wasn’t new. Most of the time, he managed to ignore them - blame it on a teenage libido and an overactive imagination. Hell, everything looks good to a teenage guy, right?

But this particular reaction had been more than just a subconscious ‘noticing’. Looking at the new manager was beyond tempting. Orlando felt like he could look at Lij for hours.

Orlando threw his towel in the bin and slung his backpack over his shoulder, hefting it as he slammed his locker shut.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t have sex with girls, because he did. Or at least, he used to. Just last…last…

Ok. It had been a couple of…years.

But he was busy. With football, and school, and…and stuff. And it wasn’t like Buffy was going to suddenly ask him to start sleeping with her again.

“Hey, baby! How was practice?” Orlando was engulfed in a cloud of warm, sweet smelling blonde enthusiasm.

He grinned and pulled Buffy close in a one armed hug, holding on tightly. She returned the hug. A long hug. She pulled back slightly, one hand coming up to brush a dark lock off his forehead. “Hey, you ok?”

Orlando cleared his throat and pecked her on the cheek. “Fine. Practice was just…long.”

Buffy tilted her head, staring up at her childhood friend and ‘boyfriend’ of four years. “You sure you’re ok?”

Orlando nodded and slung an arm around her shoulders, moving the two of them down the hall towards the parking lot. “Peachy, kiddo. Just peachy.”

“Liar.”

Orlando easily twisted her around and blew a raspberry into her neck. She squealed and punched him lightly in the ribs. He grunted and pulled her back upright. “I’m fine, kiddo. Seriously. Just a lot of work to do.”

“Fab. Does that mean we can go out Saturday and after the game Friday?” Buffy pulled away and hopped down the stairs in front of him.

Orlando grinned. “Absolutely. I get more work done on dates than I do at home.”

“Enforced study hall, hey college boy?”

“Shut up, you. Don’t give away my secrets, kiddo. I keep yours.” Orlando raised an eyebrow and opened the car door for her.

Buffy leaned close and pressed a quick, closed mouth kiss to his smile. “We keep each other’s, right?”

“Right.”

+

Elijah grinned and cheered along with the rest of the stadium as Dom jumped up and down in the end zone, doing a rather poor rendition of the chicken dance. The game clock hit zero and the cheer turned into a roar.

Elijah’s eyes scanned the rest of the team on the field, unconsciously looking for number thirty. He spotted Orlando just as a blonde tornado with pom-poms came tearing across the field and jumped enthusiastically on the tired young man. Elijah looked away when the cheerleader tugged off Orlando’s helmet and leaned forward for a kiss.

Elijah cleared his throat and headed for the chaos near the bench. There was quite a bit of after-game clean up to get done, and his assistant managers had started without him.

+

Orlando groaned and bounced Buffy to one hip. “Down, kiddo - I’m beat.”

“Wimp.” Buffy slid smoothly to her feet, twining an arm with Orlando’s and taking his helmet from him. They walked companionably off the field.

“So, tonight. Same place?”

“Actually, if you could drop me at James’ house, that would be great.”

“Sure. Let me shower and change and I’ll meet you at the car in about twenty.”

Buffy leapt up to hug him again. “You’re the best ‘boyfriend’, ever.”

“Smart ass.”

Buffy blew him a kiss and then dashed across the field towards the other cheerleaders.

Orlando shook his head. He turned his helmet between his hands as he headed for the locker rooms. He thought back on the past four years.

Buffy had been the first girl he’d kissed, when they were thirteen. Then, she’d been the first girl he’d had sex with, when they were sixteen. They’d been going steady for two years by then. But somehow, after a few more bland fumblings in the back of his pickup and one disastrous night at the lake house, they’d sat down and talked.

All night.

By dawn, they agreed that they’d been better friends than anything else, but they still adored each other, of course, and would go to junior prom together. After all, they were the captain of the football team and the head cheerleader. And this was Texas.

A few weeks after that, they’d decided it was just easier to go on pretending. They had a great time together, and neither one seemed really interested in anyone else. So what if they didn’t have sex? Everything went smoothly for about six months.

Until one night after a game, Buffy burst into tears in the middle of ordering shakes at the Tasty-freeze. She’d finally calmed down enough to tell Orlando that she’d met a man at a cheerleading competition in Dallas. She’d rambled on about him being older and something about two nights of incredible something, then burst into tears again, afraid that she was going to ruin everything and her parents would kill her for dating a man over thirty.

They’d spent another late night talking.

Orlando told her he’d signed up for telecourses at UT, but didn’t want anyone to know. Buffy suggested he use their ‘date’ nights as a reason to get his college work done. Orlando offered to drive her to see James, who lived just 30 miles away in San Marcos. He would study while she saw James, then pick her up and drive her back to Lockhart, parents none the wiser. After all, they’d been boyfriend and girlfriend for ever. No one questioned their time together, not anymore.

So they settled into a routine. On Saturday nights, Orlando picked her up promptly at five o’clock. They drove thirty miles to a comfortable local bar in San Marcos. Orlando settled in a back booth while Buffy waited up front for James. She was usually gone within minutes.

Somewhere near closing time, Buffy re-appeared in the bar, looking a bit rumpled. Orlando usually had her back home between two and two thirty. When he had a lot of work to do, they also went after games on Friday night.

Occasionally, Buffy asked him if he’d met any cute girls in the bar that he liked. Usually, Orlando shrugged and said he’d been too busy working to notice. After a few months, Buffy quit asking.

“Hey, Bloom. You comin’ to the kegger after?”

Orlando shook his head at his teammate, a wry smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve already got plans, man.”

“With Buffy?”

Orlando nodded.

“You lucky bastard.”

Orlando mentally shrugged and followed his friend into the locker rooms. Lucky I have an extra night to finish all the fucking reading I need to do.

+

Elijah let the heavy metal door slam shut behind him. He snagged a bar apron off the hook by the door.

“That you, ‘Lijah?”

“Yeah, Uncle Vig.” Elijah pushed open the swinging door into the low lit bar. “Sorry I’m late. Game stuff to take care of.” His uncle, Viggo Mortensen, was wiping down the bar.

Viggo looked up as Elijah tied the apron around his waist. “No trouble. We’re not swamped tonight. Tomorrow night, though, I’ll need you much earlier.”

“No problem.” Elijah started washing glasses.

“How’s your Mom doing?”

Elijah shrugged, setting another clean glass on the drying rack. “Alright, I guess. Still hunting for a job.”

“I told that woman she could work here anytime she wanted. She’d make a killing working just a couple nights a week.”

Elijah grinned. “I could make a killing working a couple more nights a week.”

“Not on a school night, you aren’t.”

Elijah made a derisive sound. His uncle snapped at him with a damp bar towel. Elijah laughed and dodged it easily. “So, what’s the crowd like here on a Friday?”

“The usual. Mostly locals, out for the weekend. I have a couple of regulars, though one of ‘em’s usually here on Saturdays. Here, he’s probably ready for another by now.” Viggo topped off a light beer and slid it across the bar to Elijah.

“Around the back corner, on the far side of the bar.”

Elijah nodded and picked up the beer, swinging up a section of the bar to get through. He scanned the room, looking curiously at the faces before turning the corner into the dark row of booths.

He could see stacks of papers and a few large books. Long fingers flipped quickly through one of the books, paused, and then reached for a pen. Elijah came around the corner of the booth and set the beer on the table with a thud. “Get you anything el…what are you doing here?”

Orlando looked up from his reading. His eyes widened behind the wire-rimmed glasses. He reached up and yanked them off his face, pulling back towards the corner of the booth. “Lij? What the…why…”

“Dom said you had a date with your…girlfriend.”

“I…I…” Orlando’s mouth opened and closed. “Shit. I have to go.” Orlando shoved papers and books haphazardly into his backpack, threw a twenty on the table and slid out of the bench.

“Orlando, wait…”

Orlando waved over his shoulder and was gone.

“Well, fuck.”

“Watch your mouth, young man. And what in the hell did you say to the bookworm to make him run off like that? You gonna make a habit of scaring off my regulars, boy?”

“Bookworm? He’s…No, I just…I know him. He goes to my high school.” Elijah turned a confused gaze on his uncle. “He’s a regular? Here?”

“Like clockwork. Comes in every Saturday at six, has a few beers, studies until close, then leaves. Sometimes he comes in late on Fridays, like tonight. Unless my unfriendly nephew scares him off.”

“Crap, I’m sorry Uncle Vig, I didn’t say anything, I just…asked him what he was doing here.”

“Well, don’t ask him next time. Why a young man comes to a bar to study on Saturday nights is none of our business.”

“Sorry about that.”

“If you know him from school, then I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to.”

+

“Orlando.”

Orlando lowered his arm, setting the comb carefully on the top shelf in his locker before closing the door and turning towards Elijah.

“I’m really sorry about the other night, I…”

“Not here, please.” Orlando spun around and headed for the equipment room.

Elijah followed, running different variations of an apology through his head.

Orlando pushed open the door and turned, waiting until Elijah stepped inside before shutting it firmly behind him. He leaned back against the door. “Forget you saw me, ok? I had extra…school work to get done so…Buffy sent me ho…we finished our date early so I...Look. I had to study. And the bar’s quiet, ok?”

Elijah snorted at Orlando’s rambling excuse. “A bar thirty miles from your house is quiet?”

Orlando pushed away from the door, hands fisting at his sides. “Lay off, Wood, alright? It’s none of your…”

“Alright, alright.” Elijah held up both hands. “Chill, Orli. Fuck. I just wanted to apologize for scaring you off like that. It’s my Uncle’s bar, and I just wanted to tell you that…drinks are on me next time, ok?”

Orlando’s mouth opened, then snapped closed. He sighed and ran both hands through his hair, his eyes closed as he leaned back against the door once again. “I’m sorry, man. I’m just…I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

Elijah waited until Orlando opened his eyes again. “It’s ok. Really.” Elijah’s eyes flickered over the sharp planes of Orlando’s face. They were standing just a few feet apart in the narrow room. Elijah leaned forward slightly, his eyes finally dropping to Orlando’s mouth.

The only sound in the dimly lit closet was the low rhythm of Orlando’s breathing. Orlando watched Elijah’s eyes drop and knew, knew they were looking at his mouth. He felt a shiver of fear-mingled-anticipation climb up from somewhere dark and closed inside him. He nervously licked his lips and swallowed.

Elijah stepped away abruptly, hands sliding deep into his back pockets, looking anywhere but at Orlando’s face. “So, you’re welcome by the bar anytime.” His eyes finally returned to Orlando’s “And I don’t see any reason why I should tell anyone you’re there. Do you?”

Orlando cleared his throat and pushed off the door, only just now realizing he’d been leaning back, hips out, legs slightly spread, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. “No.” He turned and set a hand on the door knob, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

Elijah waited for Orlando to open the door.

Orlando turned and looked at Elijah over his shoulder. He started slightly when he realized Elijah was standing just a half foot behind him. “I, uh…thanks.”

Elijah’s smile was lopsided, a feint tinge of pink on his cheeks. “No problem.”

Orlando pulled open the door, then shut it again, turning to look back over his shoulder. He elbowed Elijah gently in the ribs. “Orli, huh? Everyone else calls me Orlando.”

Elijah shrugged. His chest tingled where Orlando’s elbow had touched. He unconsciously reached up to rub the spot. “I’m not everyone else.”

Orlando tilted his head, considering.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Something strange and unspoken passed between them. Something that frightened Orlando just a little, and made Elijah’s palms damp. “No, you’re not, are you?”

And Orlando was out the door.

Elijah stood in the equipment room for a few more minutes, staring at the half-open door. His eyes wandered aimlessly for a moment before dropping to the floor. Slowly his hand came up to cover his mouth. He smiled bright and secret into the cup of his palm and breathed a windy sigh of delight.

Girlfriend or not.

That was a ‘moment’.

Elijah’s grin faded. That moment would probably have to be enough to satisfy his insane fascination with the quarterback for the rest of the year. For ever, probably.

High school quarterbacks with cheerleader girlfriends in small Texas towns did not suddenly come nancing out of the closet with their team managers. Especially a manager who didn’t even know which side of the closet door he belonged on.

Elijah stepped out and shut the door firmly behind him, leaving the wishful thinking in the closet, for now.

+

“See you on the field.”

Orlando bent his head so Buffy could plant a quick kiss on his cheek before he turned and headed down the hall towards the men’s locker room. As he approached, a group of girls came giggling and chattering down the hall, one walking backwards in front of the rest of the group. She did a little skip, giggled again and moved out of the way.

Orlando frowned. In the center of the group was a grinning Elijah. Three of the group kissed him on the cheek, one ruffled his hair and another handed him a half-pack of bubble gum. Elijah waved his thanks and popped a stick of gum in his mouth. He turned and paused for a moment when he saw Orlando. “Hey, man. Want some gum?”

Orlando looked at the Fruit Stripes, then slowly shook his head. He pushed open the door in front of Elijah, waiting until he walked through before following him in.

Orlando waited until most of the team headed for the door. He pulled his jersey on over his shoulder pads and glanced across the row at Elijah who was tugging on his manager’s shirt for this evening’s game. “So, what gives with the chicks, Wood. You start a fan club?”

Elijah turned around, his expression confused. “What? What are you talking about?”

Orlando cleared his throat. “The chicks, man. You’ve only been here like, two weeks. You just rounding them up so you can pick one?”

Elijah snorted, then quickly cleared his throat, hoping to cover the sound. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe. Why, you jealous?”

Orlando snorted, answering too quickly. “Hell, no. I have a girlfriend, not a boyfriend, in case you hadn’t noticed. Why would I care who you were dating?”

Elijah stared thoughtfully at Orlando. “I was asking if you were jealous of me having all the girls.”

Orlando blushed a violent shade of red. He stood abruptly and shoved his helmet on. “Oh. Right. My mistake.” Orlando cleared his throat and stared at the carpeted floor. He finally looked up. “Look, I didn’t mean to suggest…to say that you were…I didn’t mean to insult you or anything, I just thought you meant…”

Elijah waved a hand, smiling ruefully. Trust Orlando to screw up a perfectly brilliant flash of hope with a sincere apology. “Forget it.” Elijah stood. “We have a game, right?”

“Right.” Orlando stared at Elijah for another second before turning abruptly and jogging towards the door.

Elijah followed more slowly.

+

Elijah worked tables at the bar that Friday after the game, but Orlando didn’t show.

Saturday afternoon, Elijah was wiping down tables from a late lunch crowd when he heard the bell on the door jingle. He heard his Uncle call an enthusiastic greeting to who ever had just walked in. Elijah came around the corner and almost ran into Orlando.

He gaped up at the taller young man. He’s wearing the glasses again.

God, that’s hot.

Elijah cleared his throat and stepped back abruptly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Orlando’s cheeks were slightly pink as he moved past Elijah and slid into the far back booth. He carefully unzipped his backpack and started pulling out books.

Elijah stepped forward again. “Can I get you…”

“Miller light.” Orlando looked up from his books, his eyes crinkling behind the wire rims. “Please.”

Elijah nodded like a bobble-head doll, barely controlling the urge to just squat next to the table and stare. All night.

He was back with the beer in less than a minute. He pulled a coaster out of his pocket and set down the beer. He stood awkwardly by the table for a moment. Orlando was scribbling notes in a notebook, one long finger pointing to a paragraph of text.

Elijah cleared his throat again. “Can I…get you anything else?”

Orlando raised his head, a small smile on his face. “No thanks.” He bent back to his work.

“Ok, well…just holler if you need anything.” Elijah wiped his palms on his apron.

Orlando looked up again, his smile twitching with amusement. “I will.”

“Ok. Great.” Elijah turned and walked back to the bar. ‘Ok, great?’ Please tell me I didn’t say that.

Elijah peered around the corner every five minutes, checking the level of Orlando’s beer. The sixth time he peered, the beer was finally past the half way mark.

“Can I get you another?”

“Hmmm?” Orlando looked up from his paper, eyes narrowed in concentration. “What?”

“Another beer?”

“Uh…” Orlando turned glassy eyes to the still half-full glass. “Not yet. ‘nother twenty minutes or so…” His voice fell to a low mutter as he turned back to his writing.

Elijah stepped quietly away. Damn, it’s going to take him an hour to finish a fucking beer.

+

Two beers and three hours later, Elijah brought Orlando his third glass.

“Hey.” Elijah set the beer in front of Orlando and slid into the booth across from him.

Orlando smiled tiredly at him, pulled off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and reached for the new beer. He tilted his head back and downed half the glass in three swallows. He sighed and set the glass back on the table. “Hey.”

Elijah levered himself half out of the booth. “You still real busy? I’ll go if…”

“No. Stay.” Orlando reached out, his hand hovering over Elijah’s for a second before he pulled it back. “I…I need a brain break.” He pushed the glasses back up his nose.

Elijah settled back into the booth. He’d timed Orlando’s last beer with his own break. “What are you working on?”

Orlando shrugged and pulled his notebook on top of the book he had been reading. “Nothing special. Just stuff for English.”

Elijah turned his head sideways, leaning down towards the table to read the spine of the book. “Norton’s Anthology of British Literature. Huh. We don’t use that in my AP English.” Elijah straightened his head. “Don’t you have Miller, too?”

Orlando flushed. “This is for…another English class.”

“What other English class?” Elijah tilted his head, inquisitive.

Orlando pulled his book closer, his cheeks growing pink. He cleared his throat. “Look. I’m taking a couple of courses at the college, to get a head start on stuff. But I don’t like to tell anyone, ok?”

Elijah stared at him. “Why? That’s…”

“I’m not a nerd, ok? I’m just trying to get through college in three years instead of four. It’s cheaper that way.”

“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say it’s cool.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

Suddenly, Orlando grinned. “That’s cool.”

Elijah laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Orlando raised his glass in a salute and took another long drink.

+

“Elijah! You gonna help me close, or what?”

Elijah’s eyes widened. He leapt up from the booth and grabbed their four empty beer glasses. “Shit, I totally lost track of time. Oh fuck, and you probably needed to study some more. I didn’t mean to talk for so long, I was just gonna say hi for a minute and…”

“Lij, chill. It’s fine. Go help your uncle.” Orlando grinned as Elijah ran down the aisle, the four glasses balanced against his chest.

He sighed happily and leaned back into the booth, wrinkling his nose until his glasses slid back up his nose. His grin faded to a vaguely silly smile.

I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun on a da…

Orlando blushed and his smile faded. He sat back up in the booth and reached quickly for his books.

Huh.

I almost called two and a half hours of bullshitting with a guy a…a…date.

His mouth curled up at the corners, his smile creeping back to the surface.

Whatever it was, it was fun.

Continue to Part 2 -->
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