Chapter Three - Caught
"Couldn't they have set something up indoors?" Billy grumbles as he walks over to where Dom is worrying the flesh around his forefinger between sharp teeth. "Like a game of pool? Or chess?" Dom nods in utter agreement, removing his finger from his mouth and taking a deliberate look at Billy. "I suppose it can't be helped, Bills," he shrugs and eyes the slender kayak that is gently bobbing up and down in the water, doubt written all over his face. "Let's just hope we can get this over with real soon, right?"
Billy nods and walks to the waterfront, leaving Dom worrying at his forefinger again. He scans the area around him, the wide river, the rolling hills, the mountains all the way in the background... New Zealand is a fucking fantastic country. Especially when admired standing on solid ground.
He frowns once more and decides to save his finger from any further ruin and buries his fists in the pockets of his trousers. He watches the bustle around the boats, and then spots Billy talking to Sean. He grins when he sees Sean sporting the ugliest orange lifejacket Dom has ever seen, but again it makes him aware of the potential danger of this exercise. Then again, Pete did explain to them all why this training is necessary and Dom knows it would be irresponsible to let the actors get involved in certain scenes without this experience. The river they're going to be filming on is not free of danger, and they should all know what to do when things go wrong. Dom shudders at the thought and turns around a little to face the sun, basking in its warmth, breathing deeply, trying to calm down.
He opens his eyes and watches how Elijah walks over to where Billy and Sean are still talking. He is wearing a pair of cut-offs so thoroughly threadbare that Dom actually wonders when they are going to drop from around the boy's waist. His long-sleeved t-shirt is a bit too big on him, and Dom realises that many of the things he has seen Elijah wear during their first days together as hobbits, are often slightly on the baggy side. It is almost as if he is trying to hide the shape and curves of his body underneath all those layers of clothing, Dom thinks and finds himself watching the pale young man with the dark unruly curls again.
He still had not talked much, to any of them, Dom recalls. He had often caught Elijah with his eyes closed when the boy thought no one was paying attention to him. And most of the time no one was, apart from Dom. Slightly annoyed with himself, Dom had discovered that he actually enjoyed keeping track of Elijah, trying to catch him unawares, waiting for him to do something unexpected so that he would prove to Dom that at least something was going on behind those enormous blue eyes.
But all Dom had found out was that Elijah liked to close his eyes, put on his headphones to listen some music and cut himself off from whatever it was that was going on around him. As if he didn't want to be involved, didn't want to be bothered, wasn't interested.
He watches how Sean drapes his arm around Elijah's narrow shoulders and gives him a little squeeze, making Elijah laugh and Billy giggle and suddenly Dom hates the fact he is here and not there with them. Because he has also discovered that he likes Elijah's laugh. It doesn't come often; usually he offers nothing but a quiet smile - but when he laughs out loud, it feels like the sun is breaking through a patch of particularly grey clouds, chasing them away from the skies so that warmth and happiness can find their way down to earth. Dom starts to walk.
"Hey guys," he says, still a few yards away from the trio. "Looks like it's going to rain, just what we needed, right?" He winces a bit. Did he just start about the fucking weather?
"Did you just start about the fuckin' weather, Monaghan?" Billy mirrors Dom's thoughts in heavy Glaswegian. Dom shrugs, the hint of a blush finding its way to his cheeks. "I guess so," he snickers and goes to stand in between Billy and Elijah, whose shoulders are still nicely wrapped under Sean's arm. Dom looks away. "I just don't like my kayak to fill with water. If it does, I mean, if it's going to be unavoidable, I want it to be river water, and nothing else. Call me a coward, I'll freely admit it. This time."
"You're a coward," Sean giggles and Billy snorts. "What's a little water going to hurt?" From the corner of his eyes, Dom watches how Elijah moves from under Sean's arm, muttering some inaudible excuse and trotting off to the crafts table, and suddenly the witty remark he had in store for a still grinning Billy and Sean seems like a complete waste of breath.
"I am totally knackered," Billy grits out as he walks into the changing room, pulling at his wet clothes, already dreaming of the hot shower that is one flimsy shower curtain away. "I am really, totally knackered and I just want to go to bed."
"Not tonight, darling," Dom remarks in mock despair, walking in right behind Billy, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead. "I have a headache like you wouldn't believe and the freezing water of that bloody river did not agree with my physique." Sean laughs out loud, and Billy indicates a short distance between his thumb and forefinger, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Something like that, yeah," Dom chuckles and casts a sideways glance at Elijah, who has plopped down on one of the chairs and seems too tired to pay attention to the banter between the other three.
"But I'll live," he mutters and sits down as well, pulling at his own wet clothes, suddenly craving to get out of them and engulf himself in a cloud of hot steam and water in one of the shower cubicles.
He can't help but watch how Elijah worms himself out of his t-shirt, exposing a sea of pale flesh, only tinged by two dark, peaked nipples, and the shadow of a deep belly button. He is small, Dom notices, but he might be a lot heavier than he looks. Nothing but strong muscles lie hidden beneath the boy's youthful soft skin and every so often they ripple in time with the moves Elijah is making to get out of his cut-offs. Only when Dom catches himself briefly licking his bottom lip for the third time does he realise he has been shamelessly staring at the American for a more than inappropriate length of time.
So, while he unceremoniously tries to step out of his heavy, soaked boxers, he impatiently yanks a towel from one of the hooks on the wall, grabs a random bottle of shower gel and rushes to lock himself into the nearest cubicle. He looks down and just prays he was quick enough for the others not to notice his predicament.
The scorching hot water feels good. Damn good. Dom changes the setting of the spray to hard and feels how an almost painful jet of water hits his back. It is almost as good as the hands he is still secretly craving for, strong hands that will massage those uncooperative shoulders of his and pop those twisted vertebrae that have caused him to go without a really good night's sleep ever since he got off the plane three days ago.
He closes his eyes and is shocked to find himself imagining two small, nail-bitten, boyish hands working his back and shoulders, so he snaps them open again, a flush spreading rapidly on his cheeks.
Where the fuck did that come from? he thinks feverishly and looks around guiltily, then mentally kicking himself for acting like a fool, considering no one can see him standing in the shower cubicle, and what would there be to see anyway?
He grins, drops his head in his neck and faces the spray, letting it beat out a steady rhythm on his chest, softly humming a tune, trying to relax again. When he closes his eyes once more, the same fingers - ragged, short, nimble - are still there, but this time Dom allows the image to unfold. The fingers touch his stubble lightly and that idea makes Dom hum some more. When the childlike hands start to travel to his chest, his belly, all the way down to his cock, and he finds himself mirroring the movements with his own hand, his eyes fly open immediately, his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest.
Breathing hard and blushing furiously all over again, Dom decides that his imagination is running riot, which can never be good; and simply refusing to give the matter any more thought, he sets the water to cold, suffers for ten shivering seconds, and then turns the water off completely. He tries to catch his breath. He waits behind the glass door, listening to the sounds the others are making, and when it has gone totally quiet, he finally dares stepping out of the cubicle.
"So what if I was in here longer than the others," he mutters, low in his throat. "I'm the tallest. I have more skin to wash..."
He walks over to where his clothes are hanging and thinks about the others who have probably decided to go in search of something heartening to drink. Dom rummages through his stuff, silently agreeing that a stiff drink could very well be the best course of action under the circumstances, and pulls out a clean, dry pair of jeans and a well-worn shirt, changing into them quickly, hoping Billy already ordered his drink at the hotel bar as well.
He won't admit it easily, but now that he is exiting the elevator, stumbling the mere twenty yards to his hotel room door, clumsily fumbling with the key card that needs to be inserted in a terribly difficult fashion to just open the bloody thing, he knows he really has no alternative. He has to admit it.
He is drunk.
Not pleasantly buzzed. Not slightly tipsy. None of those petty euphemisms.
He is drunk. Pissed. Smashed. Sloshed. Soused. Whatever.
Dom closes the door, turns on his heels in order to rest his weary back against it and feels how the world is spinning around him. Not such a good idea, Monaghan,you wanker he thinks, reminding himself of the activities scheduled for the next day. Why, for fuck�s sake, did you let things get so out of hand?
He stumbles to the bed, but the idea of lying down makes his stomach churn. He opts for fresh air instead and starts to wrench the balcony doors apart, almost falling onto the wooden boards as soon as the doors give way.
With some great effort he manages to will a wave of nausea down and he moves to his favoured spot near the railing, gingerly setting himself down on the chair he had placed there three days ago. After a couple of deep breaths the world stops its violent somersaults and his vision finally clears to levels that are more or less bearable. He sighs and stretches his legs out in front of him, dropping his head in his neck, staring at the inky sky. He needs to think.
Two drinks. Two fucking drinks.
That was all Elijah had before he had excused himself to his room again, claiming he was really tired and still cold and would they be terribly upset if he left them already? Of course Billy and Sean, and later Orlando, who had joined them halfway through the evening, had said that it was totally understandable and probably very sensible, so you just go ahead and have a good night's sleep and don't you worry about us.
Dom had headed off towards the bar for another round of drinks, suddenly feeling the familiar homesickness again, not really sure what to think about Elijah leaving them so soon a second time.
He had turned his back against the bar while waiting for his drinks, watching the small American actor make his way around the many tables and chairs in the hotel lobby. Again, an oversized sweater and a pair of baggy, apparently well-loved cords were slung around his narrow body, and in a flash Dom remembered the flat of Elijah's belly when he had removed his t-shirt earlier that evening. He quickly shook his head, and as he had spun around again, collecting the ordered drinks, he missed Elijah turning around to watch how Dom got his hands around four glasses to carry them back to their table.
Just when Dom decides he really should try and get some sleep, he hears how a door opens on the balcony next to his and watches how a dark figure steps out into the fresh air. It must be the same person he had heard lighting a cigarette the first night of his stay here, the night he can hardly remember due to his terrible jetlag. When he suddenly hears the sound of that same lighter and smells that same typical sweet scent again, he turns around, twisting his body a bit to be able to peer across the small fence into the almost-darkness on the next balcony.
That scent, Dom suddenly thinks. He realises instantly that he has smelled it before; today, yesterday, and not while he was here in the hotel. All of a sudden he cannot believe he hasn't made the connection before.
Elijah! it flashes through him. It's Elijah in the room next to mine! It makes perfect sense, Billy and Sean are both in rooms on the other side of the corridor, Orli is four doors down on the same side, and he has come to understand that more people who work on the film are staying in this hotel until they have arranged for more appropriate accommodation.
Just when he opens his mouth to say something, he hears soft beeps coming from a mobile phone, and Dom watches how Elijah opens the phone with a flick of his wrist, plucking his cigarette from his mouth.
"Hey..." Elijah says gently in that typical soft, rather high-pitched voice. "Hannah?"
It is quiet for a while, and Dom watches Elijah's face in the dim light of his own room, wondering if he should just go inside and stop eavesdropping, or stay right where he is and watch that pretty face some more. He shivers when he realises he just thought of Elijah's face as 'pretty' and gives himself a mental shake not to be a twat. It is no good, though, because eventually, he finds himself standing his ground, trying to ignore that he is being too nosy for his own good and the fact that, for the second time that day, he can't help but develop a rather embarrassing hard-on, just from listening to the guy's voice. Dom sighs.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"I am sorry I am not there with you, honey," Dom hears Elijah say to this Hannah. "I miss you terribly." Another cigarette is shaken from the pack on the balcony table and Dom watches the practiced manner in which the fag finds its way to Elijah's mouth. The lighter makes its swishing sound again before it is clicked shut, and a fresh cloud of bluish smoke circles higher and higher. "This country is fucking gorgeous, Han, and the cast is going to be fantastic, not to mention this movie, really - it's like nothing I have ever worked on before - but Christ, Hannah, I miss you."
Who is this Hannah? Dom suddenly wonders and stumbles a bit until his back is resting against the balcony's railing. His girlfriend? All of a sudden, breathing is not such a simple matter anymore, and Dom tries to mentally kick himself again. Stop this, Monaghan! he thinks and swallows hard. You just got here, you wanker. You don't want to screw around in this cast. And he's still a boy, for fuck's sake! And a straight one too, apparently!
"I know, Han," Elijah's tones become softer and more subdued as he listens to the voice on the other side of the line. "I wish I was there, I'd give him a piece of my fucking mind, you know that, right?" The boy is quiet for a long while again, and Dom suddenly realises that the conversation he's eavesdropping on is not an altogether pleasant one. Just when he decides to get the hell out of there, Elijah ends the call.
"Okay, sweetie, don't let him get to you, yeah?" he says, and his voice cracks a bit. "And call me again tomorrow, okay? I need to hear your voice." A brief silence. "Tell her hello from me, will you? And I love you." Dom watches how Elijah clicks the phone shut, how he tosses it on the table and replaces the cigarette between his lips.
"Elijah?" he tries softly, and watches how the dark figure jerks around, startled by the voice on the other side of the fence. The minimal light coming from Dom's room slightly illuminates Elijah's face and a flicker of recognition sparks in his big eyes.
"Hi," the boy says, snatching the cigarette from between his lips. He exhales and Dom watches the smoke disappear into the night air.
"I didn't know your room was next to mine," Dom says again, pushing his suddenly trembling hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, because he has never said this many words to the boy at once, and it's making him fucking nervous. "I recognised the scent from those." He moves his chin up a bit, indicating the cigarette in Elijah's hand. "You were out here a few nights ago as well, right?"
Elijah nods, eyes still slightly filled with surprise. "Why are you up?" he asks suddenly.
Feeling caught? Dom can't help but think, and immediately realises he was the one eavesdropping. "Drank too much," he explains with a goofy grin. "You were wise not to come with us. Billy can drink us all under the table. But then again, he's a Scot." Elijah shoots him a look that tells Dom he doesn't really understand why Billy's home country has anything to do with his inebriation, and so he snaps his mouth shut.
"Did..." Elijah tries again. "Did you... like, hear anything?" He takes another nervous drag from the cigarette and Dom can't help but stare at the small hands in fascination.
"No," he answers, maybe slightly too quickly. "I only just walked out here and recognised the smell of those, so I mentioned your name to see if it was you."
"Oh... okay," the boy says, the fear in his face slowly dissipating.
Dom cringes inwardly. Well at least you can act, Monaghan, he says to himself, knowing he is lying through his teeth, but somehow sensing it is better not to let on he knows something about the boy. Scared to show us things about you, are you? Dom thinks but smiles at Elijah. "Well, I'd better try and get some sleep now, huh? Or Pete is gonna kick my ass tomorrow."
He grins softly and when Elijah giggles a bit as well, their eyes lock briefly and it nearly takes Dom's breath away.
"'Night," he mutters and watches how Elijah smiles shyly before he turns his back on Dom, moving back into the utter darkness of his room, closing the door with a gut-wrenchingly final click.
Dom walks back to his own room, making straight for the bathroom where he needs to see to some pressing matters first before he can even think of getting any sleep tonight.
Chapter Four
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