Stronger

Ian/Elijah

Huge liberties taken with the amount of pain and suffering Elijah went through in Cirith Ungol. Artistic licence rules!

Elijah had never been so grateful to hear the phrase ‘check the gate’. He hurt. There wasn’t a muscle that wasn’t screaming in protest.

He knew he should get up off the cold floor, or at least pull the robe around himself. He spared a grateful thought for the wardrobe assistant who had put it around his shoulders – but he didn’t seem to be able to move.

"You okay?" He looked up, startled out of taking stock of his aches and pains. There was something very surreal about being offered a hand by one of the very same orcs who had just spent most of day tormenting him.

"Fine, thanks," he answered automatically, taking the hand that was offered. "I just ache a bit."

"We did work you over a bit, didn’t we?" The orc looked as crestfallen as was possible, bearing in mind the amount of make up he was wearing.

Elijah shrugged, then regretted it as the muscles in his back screamed a protest. He pulled his hand away, and finally dragged the edges of the robe together, grateful for the meagre warmth.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" The orc – the name Craig slipped into Elijah’s mind, but he wasn’t confident enough to use it – was still looking at him.

"Fine," Elijah said again.

"You look like you’ve been in a war."

"I have." Elijah nodded at the crew and made his way off the set, heading wearily for make up.

He wasn’t expecting to see anyone else in the trailer – they were all working strange schedules now, and the only people he saw with any regularity were Sean and Andy – both of whom were elsewhere on set.

"Hello, toad." Elijah flinched hugely, his mind still trapped in dark corners, and then relaxed as Dom stood up, pulling on his jacket, his face creasing with concern. "You okay? You jumped about a mile just then."

"Yeah, sorry," Elijah slumped into the chair Dom had just vacated. "Wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially not you. It’s late."

"Had some stuff to do. Script crap and such. Thought I’d stop and say hello. Haven’t seen you for ages." Dom squinted. "You look like shit."

"Feel like it." Elijah rubbed at his eyes and then looked around, blinking. "Where the hell is everybody?"

As if he had conjured them up, people began arriving, bustling around him, and he began to let himself slide back into his semi-trance.

"This is hard on you isn’t it?" He forced open his eyes and smiled at Dom, nodding slightly.

"I’ll be fine," he said. "I’m just tired. Feel like an old man."

"Well, there’s one waiting for you at home, so that’s all right." Dom rubbed Elijah’s leg. "We’re all together again soon. You need us. You’re …" he paused, and Elijah couldn’t read the look on his face.

"I’m what?"

"Tired," Dom said, very clearly not saying what was really on his mind. "You’re tired." He stood up. "You okay to get home?"

"Course." Elijah winced as one of his prosthetic feet parted company with real flesh. "It’ll be great when we’re all filming again. How’s it going?"

"Boys’ stuff," Dom shrugged. "Fighting, nifty swordplay. Nothing like the stuff you’re going through."

"And Sean," Elijah amended wearily.

"Just you," Dom said softly. "We’ll get together this weekend. Ring me when you wake up."

Finally free of the wig, Elijah sighed in relief as he was able to rest his head against the back of his seat. He smiled, eyes refusing to focus as Dom leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"Try and get some sleep," he said. "This look doesn’t suit you, and it’s not all make up."

Elijah grunted and listened as Dom clattered his way out.

He must have dozed after that, since the next thing he knew, his shoulder was being shaken gently, sending new waves of pain through his body.

"Lij? Elijah? The car’s here."

"Okay, thanks." He groaned as he stood up and pulled on the sweats and t-shirt that had been thrown carelessly on the neighbouring chair that morning.

"Elijah?" He stopped as he left the trailer and looked over at Jake, one of the runners. "PJ said that if you need to see the medic before you go, he’s on standby. Said you got knocked about a bit today."

"No, I don’t need that," Elijah answered. "I think I just want to go home, have a bath and go to sleep. Thanks though." He looked around until he spotted his car and climbed into the back seat – a long-understood sign that he didn’t want to talk to the driver, who took the hint and was silent on the drive, only speaking once to confirm their destination.

Before he answered the question, Elijah pulled out his cell and made a quick call.

"Okay if I come over?" He paused, a small smile on his lips. "I’ll warn you, I’m tired and cranky." He listened to the voice on the other end, and then said, "Okay. See you in a while." He disconnected the call and told the driver the name of their destination, before leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

He was taking a further inventory of every scrape and bruise when the car stopped, and he broke off halfway through, saying goodnight and climbing out of the car, making for the front door, which opened as he got there.

"Hello," he said, and walked gratefully into Ian’s embrace.

"There’s a hot bath running," Ian said, his lips against Elijah’s hair. "I was told that you’ve had a bad day."

Elijah nodded, his face pressed against Ian’s chest. "A fucking awful, awful day," he admitted at last. "Cirith Ungol. Cold. Naked. Bruised."

"Bruised?" Ian pulled away and led Elijah into the house, closing the door softly behind them. "Really?"

Elijah nodded. He pulled his t-shirt off and turned to face Ian, holding his arms out. "See?"

"Oh, my boy…" Ian reached out a hand, and Elijah flinched, then sighed as soft fingers stroked across one of the bruises. "I didn’t realise…"

"It doesn’t matter," Elijah said. "I’m not bruised much. I just got thrown against the wall once too often, I guess." He dropped his arms, folding them across his chest. "I’m sore, though." He shrugged. "I’ll bounce back again tomorrow, I always do."

"Maybe, maybe." Ian pulled Elijah into his arms again, and Elijah sighed, closing his eyes, revelling in the familiar scents of fine cologne and freshly-laundered cotton. He turned his head so that his ear was against Ian’s chest, and gazed through half closed eyes at the warm light spilling from the den. He could hear the soft strains of some kind of mellow jazz, and he smiled.

"Bath," Ian’s voice rumbled in his chest. "Otherwise we will have a veritable Danube cascading down the stairs." He pushed Elijah away, who went with obvious reluctance.

"Come with me?" he asked after he had climbed two stairs. "I need someone to wash my back."

"I’ll be up in a second. Do you want some wine?"

Elijah shook his head. "Not if it’s that crappy red stuff."

"Heathen." Ian laughed. "Go."

Elijah climbed the remaining stairs and made his way into the bathroom, pausing only to shrug off his trainers and sweats.

He had barely settled into the water, flinching at its almost too hot temperature, when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and Ian appeared, a glass of wine in each hand, red for himself, and white for Elijah, who smiled in gratitude, reaching up with a hand that was already bright red from the temperature of the water.

He took a sip of the wine, letting it slide down his throat, sighing with pleasure, and then rested his head against the back of the tub, sighing again when he felt Ian’s hand begin to stroke across his forehead, pushing his hair back.

"Better?" Ian’s voice was soft, loving, and Elijah smiled, turning his head toward the sound of that voice. He always felt like he was coming home when Ian touched him.

"Yeah," he said. "Better."

"Want to talk to me? Tell me about your day?" Ian asked, the movement of his hand stopping as Elijah shook his head.

"Don’t stop." Elijah pushed into the touch like a pampered pet, and Ian, with a smile Elijah could feel even with his eyes closed, did as he was told.

"No, I don’t want to tell you," Elijah said, relaxing again under Ian’s hand. "It wasn’t horrible. I’m just sore and a bit freaked out; it’s all getting a bit heavy with the Ring and stuff, and I miss you and my friends around me." He shrugged and took another sip of wine. "This is nice, though. This is worth taking sixteen kinds of crap for." He cracked open his eyes. "You haven’t kissed me yet."

"My apologies." Ian grunted slightly as he pushed himself up onto his knees, leaning over the bath, perilously close to the half full glass in Elijah’s hand. Elijah smiled slightly, and hooked his free hand around the back of Ian’s head, the kiss turning into something deeper and sweeter than had, perhaps, been intended, and Elijah hardly noticed when he dropped his glass in the bath, freeing his other hand which also wrapped around Ian’s neck, as his tongue sought out the comfort of the other man’s mouth.

"That’s nice," he muttered, finally releasing Ian, if only because of a need to breathe. He pecked Ian’s cheek and relaxed back. "You gonna give me one of your massages now?"

"If that’s what you want," Ian answered. "Has it registered yet that you’re lying on a glass?"

"What?" Elijah looked down. "Fuck!"

"Unlikely, the state you’re in." Ian pushed himself to his feet. "Now come on, my old bones won’t take this much longer."

"Old bones, my ass," Elijah snorted, standing up and stepping into the towel Ian held out. "You’re as young as the man you feel, that’s what you told me." He grinned. "So that makes you twenty, going on twenty one."

"Lucky me," Ian said, pulling Elijah close.

"No," Elijah whispered, reaching up to kiss Ian again. "Lucky me."

He wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist as they left the bathroom, making their way to the bedroom.

"Lie down," Ian said, peeling Elijah’s arms away from his waist. "Tell me why you’re so sore."

Elijah did as he was told, dropping the towel without a hint of embarrassment, and lying on the bed, face down, head resting on his folded arms. He felt the mattress dip, and smiled as he felt Ian’s lips soft against his shoulder.

"So beautiful," Ian whispered, and Elijah laughed and shook his head.

"Only what you see," he answered. "Only in your eyes."

"You will harness that power you have one day," Ian said. "And you will be an awesome sight."

"You said awesome!" Elijah looked over his shoulder. "You’re picking up my phrases."

"No, you fool. Awesome, as in full of awe. Not awesome as in, oh that’s nice." Ian smiled. "Now, I shall pummel you into a small puddle of goo."

"Oh, can hardly wait."

Elijah listened as Ian moved around the room, recognising what he was doing just from the sounds, and it struck him, as it did every time, how right it was to be here, how comfortable. This felt more like his home than his own, little used, house.

He hissed in a breath as Ian’s hands, warm and slick with oil, settled on his back, straight on the source of his discomfort.

"That’s it," Ian whispered. "You’ll feel better soon. What did they do?"

"I think I did it to myself," Elijah said quietly. "I twisted at the wrong time and the wrong angle… ah!" His head rocked back and Ian pulled away with a muttered, "sorry."

"Keep going," Elijah said, settling his head on his arms again, groaning as Ian’s fingers went back to work, digging into the knot of muscle.

"You should have said something," Ian said, his thumbs travelling up the sides of Elijah’s spine. "You should have said that you were hurt."

Elijah snorted slightly inelegantly. "I’m not, I wasn’t hurt. You make it sound like I broke something. I just twisted wrong, that’s all."

"You’re too easy going sometimes," Ian chided gently. "You’re young now, you bounce. But the time will come when you won’t."

"Well, even if that’s true, it won’t be for a long time," Elijah said, and then winced slightly, worrying that perhaps he had been slightly insensitive; although the age difference was never mentioned, it was impossible to ignore.

"That’s true," Ian said smoothly, kissing the back of Elijah’s neck. "You feel all knotted up, though. Is Frodo hurting you?"

Elijah was silent for a long minute, and then sighed.

"I think he is, just at the minute," he admitted finally. "He’s going through a lot, you know? I can usually leave him at work and pick him up again the next day, but right now, he kind of stays with me." He arched up as Ian’s fingers slid into his hair, fingers pressing against his skull. "Oh! What’s that?"

"Sssh, it’ll relax you, I promise."

Elijah could feel himself starting to drop off as Ian’s clever fingers continued to work their magic, but he didn’t want to sleep, even though he knew he should. He wanted to stay awake, stay with Ian, so with an effort, he raised his head again, and arched his back.

"Stop it," he said. "It’s enough, Ian, thank you."

"Are you a puddle of goo?"

"Definitely." He stretched luxuriously as Ian shifted off him and then rolled over onto his back.

"You’ll be getting oil on the sheets," Ian pointed out patiently, removing his own clothes before lying down next to Elijah. "You thug."

"Yeah, that’s me," Elijah agreed, snuggling into Ian’s chest, wrapping an arm and a leg firmly around him. "We could put some of that oil to good use, you know."

"I don’t think you’re in any fit state for a bit of slap and tickle, young man," Ian said in his best pompous tone, and Elijah made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a yawn. "Do you feel better?" Ian’s voice changed, slid into a deeper range which made Elijah shiver and press closer.

"Yeah," he said. "I do. I’ll be okay tomorrow. Frodo’s gone now; I’ll just pick him up again tomorrow."

"Maybe he just wanted a bit of company tonight," Ian said, once again running his fingers through Elijah’s hair. "He’s having a tough time of it, you know."

Elijah tightened his grip, and buried his face again Ian’s throat. "Will you just hold me?" he whispered. "Just hold me tight."

"Oh, dearest, dearest love." Ian pulled him close and Elijah revelled in the strong arms around him. He mourned for Frodo, alone in the dark, but he wasn’t welcome here, in the bed he shared with Ian. There wasn’t room for him.

He tilted his head and kissed Ian’s throat, then his cheek, then his mouth, soft and sweet.

"You’re tired," Ian said. "And winding down, I think. Do you want to eat?"

"No." Elijah settled again, closing his eyes. "Just you. Just stay with me."

"Always," Ian promised, a fervour in his voice that would have surprised Elijah, had he been more alert, but he was safe and warm and beginning to relax, and Frodo’s heartbreak was safe behind the door in his mind, so he barely grunted.

He distantly felt Ian shift, and then the heaviness of the duvet settling over him. As he spiralled down to sleep, the last thing he was aware of was the comfort of Ian’s body against his and the softness of Ian’s voice, lulling him down into darkness.

The End

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