Fic: Roxanne
E-mail: the_smooth_one910@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Boy on boy. The usual.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Pairings: Elijah/Orlando, Orlando/Dominic
Summary: A tango of emotions.
Notes: Inspired by El Tango de Roxanne off the Moulin Rogue soundtrack.


I. His eyes upon your face

He pretends he doesn’t notice, they say. He tells himself that there’s nothing TO notice. There’s nothing there, nothing that can lead to more. There is absolutely nothing there between Dominic and Orlando except what’s between the entire Fellowship; friendship, a sense of belonging. What these guys have is much like the feeling between members of a gang, or members of a club.

The rest of them are not like him. He, who broke the unspoken law, he who did was not supposed to be done amongst them. He was stupid enough to fall in love, fall in love with their sparkling star, of all people. If he had to be stupid, he should have chose Astin, right? Stupid choice, but logical. Not their angel, not their walking sin, not the walking billboard as to why men should forgo women.

But he was more than stupid, more than moronic, and he had done it, he had fallen into a sort of passionately, desperately, pathetic love with Orlando. And he had acted on his stupidity, he had told Orlando, and Orlando, in his demure but mind-blowingly sexy way, gave himself, let himself be touched and worshiped and adored and obsessed over. It had been stupid, but he had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he?

Of course he did. Dominic was just looking at Orlando because Orlando is speaking. He’s only looking because it’s protocol, because it’s polite to look at the speaker when he’s speaking. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless. There’s nothing to notice.

He’s starting to think otherwise.


II. His hand upon your hand

He pretends that it’s not awkward, they say. He tells himself it’s NOT awkward. There’s nothing strange about the way they all dance together, nothing odd about their manner of being close to each other. There is absolutely nothing there between Dominic and Orlando except what’s between the entire Fellowship; a sense of closeness. What these guys have is an understanding of their desire to be close, much like the feeling between girls when they dance. They dance to be close, not to be necessarily sexual.

The rest of them do not see it like he does. He, who doesn’t want to accuse anyone of anything, he who is afraid to voice his thoughts for fear of hurting his friend. He was stupid enough to feel slightly threatened, to be jealous when his sparkling star turns away from him and dances with Dominic. But if he has nothing to worry about, he shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of pulling Orlando away and into his arms. Stupid move, but understandable. His angel, his sun, his reason for living should be able to be trusted, but not necessarily is.

But he’s more than jealous, more than threatened, his blood is boiling. But he can’t act on this, because it’s just his jealousy, nothing more, and it’s not even warranted. He can’t tell Orlando, because Orlando, in his sweet but alarming determined way, would tell him to fuck off but secretly love the attention, and let his hand brush over Dominic’s hand, his wrist, his hips, his stomach. It hurts, but this is what he asked for, didn’t he?

Of course he hadn’t. Dominic is just dancing with Orlando because he’s there. He’s only dancing near him because he knows him, because Dominic’s never been comfortable dancing with complete total strangers. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s innocent. There’s nothing to feel awkward about it.

He’s starting to believe otherwise.


III. His lips caress your skin

He pretends he doesn’t admit it to himself, they say. He tells himself there’s nothing TO admit to himself. There’s nothing there, nothing that can be stopped. There is absolutely nothing there between Orlando and Dominic except what’s not there between all the Fellowship. What these two have is something completely different, something physical and disgusting and hurtful.

The rest of them do not ignore it like he does. He, who cannot agree with what his eyes see, he who feels just as small as he physically is. He was stupid enough to open the door, open the door and stand there like he is frozen. If he had to see this, he should have at least screamed, right? Stupid move now, but justified. Not his angel, his Eden-red apple, his Roxanne.

But he is more than silent, more than blind, he is gullible and he lets it go. And he’s unable to act, because there’s nothing but denial, and Orlando, in his melodic but deceitful way, says he’s sorry and it’ll never happen again, but it always does, there’s always Dominic’s lips resting on his skin. It’s awful, but this is how it is, isn’t it?

Of course it is. Dominic is not a replacement for him. He’s only in Orlando’s bed because Orlando’s bored right now, because Orlando has always needed something new in his life. It doesn’t man anything. It’s fleeting. There’s nothing to admit to himself.

Elijah knows otherwise now.


How many hobbits can we fit in a bed?
This ain't floating my boat!
Home, Jones!


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