free hosting   image hosting   hosting reseller   online album   e-shop   famous people

Title: Morning After

Author: Uluithiel

pairing: Sean & Elijah (who knew?)

Rating: PG-13 (mostly for Lij's foul little mouth, but cheer up -- this will upgrade as the series progresses. Promise.)

Disclaimer: Never happened. Not claiming it did. My imagination has SO run riot here.

Summary / Story Notes: Rakshi's wonderful 'That One Night' (http://rakshi.diversesouls.com/one.html) tells what happened between Sean and Elijah after shooting the Cirith Ungol scenes. It's Sean's story, and nobody tells Sean's story better than Rakshi. But Elijah has a POV here too.

October 2000

New Zealand

Elijah woke suddenly, aware that something was different this morning. A moment of disorientation, then he heard the soft snore beside him and his disorientation tripled. He closed his eyes to try to collect himself.

So . . . last night had been real. Not a dream. Not one of the fantasies he had gotten so good at. Real. And the reality put even his finest fantasies deep in the shade. He touched his fingers to his lips, pleased that they were a little swollen. He wanted to be *marked*. He wanted to wear a fucking neon sign that said SEAN ASTIN.

Elijah slid his arms around the warm sleeping body next to him and pressed a kiss to the spot where Sean's neck met his shoulder, quivering as he remembered how a kiss in that spot had made Sean moan. Clearly it was a magical spot -- today it made Sean stir, and those astonishing eyes opened, amber reflected in deep green water. Lij smiled into the eyes. "Good morning," he said softly.

For a moment the eyes were all his, a bottomless pool of love, and Elijah let himself fall into them, surrendering himself utterly to what he saw offered there. A moment of union, of oneness, of perfect happiness . . . and then the dark things began swimming up from the bottom of the pool.

Sean dropped his eyes, and Elijah's heart shattered. Quickly he pressed his fingers to Sean's lips, conscious even now of how soft they were. Remembering against his will their taste. "No," he said quietly. "No, don't say it. I know. It's all right. I know."

The pain it cost him to say that was more than repaid by the gratitude on Sean's face. If he could bear some of Sean's pain for him he would, and gladly. Sean closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Elijah's, pulling him close. Lijah melted into the embrace. His body seemed specially designed to fit against Sean's, each curve and hollow fitting perfectly; the feeling of their skin meeting was indescribable. Clearly Sean agreed, because he shuddered and pulled away, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, his back to Lij.

Elijah felt the tears well; spill -- he scrubbed them away with the sheet. Taking a deep breath, he plunged himself into the role he needed to play now. 'Good fucking thing I'm an actor', he thought. 'this would be a real cunt if I'd spent my life studying accounting.' He composed his features and stepped into the role. 'Alright, Elwood,' he told himself grimly. 'You're on.'

With a bounce he moved to sit behind Sean, massaging the thick shoulders with fingers that were loving but totally platonic. "You want the shower first, Astin?" he asked brightly.

Elijah tore open the can of beer and collapsed into a chair. He never never never wanted another day like today. The day had been long, the scenes grueling. They had shot Mordor scenes today; Mordor, where Frodo disintegrates and Sam becomes the complete hero. Mordor, where Frodo collapses and Sam carries him on his back. Mordor, the dark night of Frodo's soul. The FIRST dark night of Frodo's soul.

Elijah's skin seemed to throb everywhere it had been in contact with Sean's, burning through the fabric of their costumes as he lay slung across Sean's strong back.

But, hey, like, NO PROBLEM! Elijah had done his job. The tough acting job wasn't being Frodo. It was being Elijah. Elijah Wood, the irrepressible geek with the giggle and the bounce.

Lij had delivered a flawless performance. And he knew it had not fooled Sean for one second.

But it was all he could do. It was all he could offer Sean. The real Elijah had had his night.

The door opened to admit Dominic, a bundle of hobbit energy. Dom grabbed a beer and flopped himself onto the sofa. "How was your day, Ringbearer?" he asked.

Elijah grunted -- not his best sound -- and chugged half the can of beer. Another error . . . Dom leapt up to beat his back as he choked. The choking brought tears to his eyes and that was it. Elijah dissolved. Totally.

Dominic gathered him up into a strong hug and held him, letting him cry, not asking questions, and Elijah thought he had never been so grateful for anything in his life. When finally his sobs had died to hiccoughs, Dom grasped his shoulders and pushed him away to look into his face.

"You want to talk about it?" Dom invited.

Lij shook his head, but the movement made the tears start again. "FUCK!" he choked. 'GODDAM FUCKING SON OF A CUNTING BITCH!"

"Anyone I know?" asked Dom rhetorically.

That brought Elijah out of his rage in a flash. "No, no! That's not what I meant! He's not, it's not him, I'm not angry at him, how could I be?"

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Dom approvingly. "We have a pronoun at least, and I think I could make a stab at the name, though you can change it to protect the not-so-innocent if you want." He looked at Elijah, his eyes shrewd and very tender. "And am I way off course in assuming that this not-so-innocent person has recently become even less innocent?"

Elijah sniffled, blew his nose, and settled himself in his friend's arms. "Blow me, you wanker," he said, his voice still catching a little. "You're right, right, right. Fuck. What a fucking ASSHOLE I am. Oh god, I am SO in trouble here."

Haltingly, then faster, the words finally pouring out of him, Elijah told Dominic the story of yesterday's shoot. How Sean had freaked at the Cirith Ungol scene. How Sam had refused to relinquish his role, holding Sean in Sam's despair. How Sean had been shaken to the core, totally vulnerable, as he recovered from the incident.

How Elijah had comforted him.

How Sean had comforted Elijah.

And then, released by the floodgates of Elijah's grief, the whole story tumbled out, and Dom just let it flow.

Elijah would never forget that moment in the hotel lobby. He was not yet confirmed as Frodo, but he knew Sean Astin would be playing Sam. He looked forward to meeting Sean; he had adored Goonies -- loved all Sean's work. He was excited to see the Sam that Sean would bring to this role.

"I knew then, Sblomie," he said. "I mean, I knew but I didn't KNOW I knew or know WHAT I knew but . . . does that make any sense?" He felt more than saw Dom's smile and went on. "Well fuckit I'm not here to make sense. Dom, something clicked inside me then. It was like . .. . a piece falling into place, making all my gears mesh.

"I was totally psyched about the role and the film and everything, so I didn't think much of it at the time. I mean, the whole situation was about magic coming to life, so having life-size magic standing around the lobby seemed perfectly natural."

Then, New Zealand. 17 months of magic. Months of friendship, unbelievably hard work, incredibly good fun. Months of total immersion in the most compelling role Elijah had ever played. Months of total immersion in Frodo; in Frodo and Sam.

The bond between Elijah and Sean, first recognized in that hotel lobby, developed in parallel with the bond between Frodo and Sam. As the hobbits' peril increased, their love and devotion grew to match it, to overpower it, to triumph over the evil they walked so courageously into. The bond between Elijah and Sean might have been manifest only during takes, but that's not what happened. Rather the two relationships -- Sam and Frodo, Sean and Elijah -- guided each other, nurtured each other, nourished each other.

The passion was inevitable. They had discussed that aspect of Frodo and Sam several times; it seemed to be a no-brainer. The thin platonic overlay that Tolkien's society insisited on couldn't hide the nature of the love between the two gallant hobbits.

Somehow, Sean and Elijah always managed to avoid talking about the last chapters of the book.

Elijah recognized his attraction to Sean from the beginning. The man was simply irresistible: the unbelievable ever-changing eyes; the luxurious chiseled mouth; the solid burly strength in its compact frame. Sean's broad, stong hands. The crisp curls of his hair. His well-muscled legs, available for inspection every morning in the Feet trailer. The tantalizing line of hair running down his chest and abdomen. Irresistible. Totally.

NO PROBLEM. Lots of men were attractive, even irresistible.

But this one was also . . . good. That was the single word that defined Sean best. He was GOOD.

And GOOD, in common with IRRESISTIBLE. . . .

NO PROBLEM. This was a married man, totally committed to his wife and daughter. Lij had no desire to be a homewrecker, none at all. Unrequited love was a bitch, but it was a manageable bitch. He still had Sean in his life every day, loving, caring, teasing, protecting . . . loving . . . .

PROBLEM.

Elijah remembered vividly the exact moment when he first recognized that Sean was feeling the same passion he was. It had been a routine and rather boring day, mostly blue screen work, and he missed the excitement of working with Sean, developing scenes together, meshing their selves into the entity that was Frodo and Sam. He was in the Feet trailer getting the glue sponged off when Sean came in, already metamorphosed totally out of Sam. "Hullo, Frodo," he said warmly. "Missed you today." and he bent to drop a kiss on the crown of Elijah's head. But Lij had raised his face at Sean's voice, and the lips landed on his cheekbone, sliding down and brushing Elijah's lips.

The fleeting brush of mouth on mouth had been like gasoline on a pilot light. Elijah almost cried out in surprise, and the shock in Sean's eyes was just as great. For a moment they stared at each other, faces inches apart, surrounded by the bustle of the trailer. Then Sean had straightened and walked rapidly away. Elijah hadn't seen him again that evening, and by the next day Sean had his defenses firmly in place.

Until Cirith Ungol.

That scene was the dark night of Sam's soul -- the FIRST dark night of Sam's soul. His love lay dead. No options remained for Sam but to carry out the Quest in Frodo's honor, then join him in blessed death.

Shooting took hours; hours in which Elijah lay motionless, wrapped in Shelob's sticky smelly webstrings. Hours in which Sean did all the acting. Hours in which Sean stopped acting. Became Sam. Got lost there.

It had taken the combined efforts of Peter, Billy, and especially Elijah to pull Sean back from Sam, and when his eyes finally cleared he was so pale and shaken that Elijah had insisted on accompanying him home, nurturing him, protecting him.

Loving him.

And, ultimately, making love with him.

"It's fucking hopeless, Sblomie," Elijah sighed. "It's totally abso-fucking-lutely impossible. I mean, I could take it if was just me in love with him. I mean, then he might have come by for a casual fucking thing and I could enjoy it, take what was offered, go on."

Dom looked at him quizzically. "Yeah, well, okay, maybe that wouldn't be all right," Lijah admitted. "But THIS! He's in love with me, Dom. He's fucking in LOVE with me!

"And that makes it all a hundred times worse. Because he's not going to leave Chris and Alexandra. He's spent his whole life building a stable world for himself, building a normal family, surrounding himself with calm, stable, normal stuff. And now. . . ME!"

Dom burst out laughing. "Yeah, calm stable and normal are not the first adjectives that leap to mind!" he gasped. Elijah scowled at him, but the scowl couldn't survive Dominic's crowing laugh, and at long last a weak giggle emerged.

"Cut it out, wanker," he said, poking Dom in the ribs. "You're supposed to be fucking COMFORTING me here."

"Well, aren't I? Don't you feel better, Ring Kid?" Dom asked.

"Yeah, okay, alright, fine," grumbled Elijah. "Great, terrific, you should be a cunting therapist. Now tell me what the fuck to DO!"

Dom enfolded him in another hug. 'Nothing TO do, mate. You're right. You're fucked. You just keep on keeping on."

"Cunting wanker," murmured Lijah affectionately.

Just keep on keeping on.

TBC