Ian had it bad.

He’s seen the movie 75 times x 180 minutes = 255 hours.

11 days, devoted to staring at the silver screen at Legolas. Pouring time down the drain. Till Legolas’ quicksilver movements seeped into Ian’s eyes, like cataract. Till Ian’s joints all ached with swollen longing, like arthritis.

This was the 76^th time, and he was watching it at home.

Ian opened his mouth, unmindful that he was salivating. The drool pooled over the rim of his bottom lip and made a long, shiny line down to Ian’s pajama top.

On the telly, Legolas threw his head back and laughed, rain pelted down over his cackling face.

Ian forgot to breath.

Soundlessly, he swooned and slipped off his armchair to the floor. Curled up, unconscious, in a tight ball between the ottoman, the electric heater and the cheese platter.

* * * *

Ian was a bit of a hoarder.

He gets a bit sentimental over pieces of keepsake.

Ian has a collection of used Feet, one pair each from Elijah, Sean, Billy and Dom, neatly labeled and signed in separate shoe boxes, stowed away in the garage. Should anything happen to Ian’s nest eggs, he could realize these on e-Bay for a quick cash injection.

Ian’s got latex ears too, but just the one set from Orlando. Not as a gift. He didn’t ask Orli for them. He’d picked it out of the bin in the make-up trailer. They’d been misapplied, ripped off and discarded.

Which made it even better, Ian thought shrewdly, there could be Bloom DNA earwax preserved in the hardened glue. Just waiting for a Jurassic Park type scientific experiment.

* * * *

Ian interior decorated.

Ian bought quilt covers in Daffodil from Lincraft. And custom ordered a faux-velvet canopy for the four poster in Lawn-Green. He used light blue silk pillow cases.

When Ian put his face down into the soft mounds of blond, green and grey bedding, he fantasized he was sleeping in Legolas’ arms.

In the morning, he throws back the curtains and says "Good morning, dear, you slept well?" to the cardboard cut-out Legolas standing by his night-dresser. Which Ian nicked home after one of the premiers.

* * * *

Ian suffered from ‘bouts of criminality.

For example, larceny. Wanting to disappear into the ancient New Zealand jungles with nothing but Legolas’ satiny undershirt and a big pot of make-up remover cream.

Also, trespass. The urge to break into Orlando’s dressing trailer and watch in minute, excruciating detail, every step of the metamorphosis.

In particular, malice aforethought. Wanting to wrench the camera out of Viggo’s hand, to batter Viggo over the head with it, to make Viggo drink film-developing fluids. How dare Viggo distribute photos of Legolas’ emerging from Orlando’s skin, so lovely as to be verging on pornographic?

Ian formed the mens rea for murder at the thought that Orlando had permitted Viggo to see him like that.

Ian carried out the actus reus for petty theft, when he slipped a print out of the photo of Orlando, poised to put on his contacts, inside Gandalf’s volumous sleeves.

* * * *

Ian got a hot date.

A delightful young man who had Aragorn’s hair and Legolas’ slimness. With a dark gaze like Viggo’s and bone structure as sharp as Orlando’s.

Ian took his boyfriend to an award and sat him down beside Orlando.

Ian waited for people to accuse him of genetically engineering a clone spliced with Viggo/Orli genes.

But no one seems to have caught on.

* * * *

Ian remembers ruefully the time before Legolas.

Ian had gone to a cricket match with co-stars Orlando and Bernard.

This was when Legolas was still just: gangly Orlando running around in a blond wig with plastic contacts - of such a corny plasticy shade of blue that they’d earned a smirk from Christopher Lee.

Before movie magic turned the cheap Halloween toys into soul snatching grey pools of knowledge/innocence.

Ian was free then. He interacted with Orlando normally.

That is, Orlando quite naturally developed a huge straight-boy crush on Ian. With Ian laughing it off whilst flirting back with twinkling eyes.

Ian now gets palpitations just thinking about Orlando.

* * * *

Ian could not believe the cheek of Orlando!

Calling him up out of the blue like that: "Pirate film was very cool. Johnny Depp says "hi". Yeah, I just got off the plane. Buy lots of chips, I’m going to come and crash at your place."

First of all, why wasn’t Orlando stammering and calling him "Sir" and talking about his respect for Ian’s craft, like he used to?

Why is Orlando speaking in such familiar, casual, confident tones? It could not just be the string of roles he’s landed, or his new burgeoning stardom, could it?

Ian kicked himself. Saying in that interview that Gandalf wanted to get with Legolas may have given his game away.

It will all be alright, of course, because Ian could still seize on the chance of Orlando’s visit to disabuse Orlando of any silly notions.

Ian just wished he’d had more notice. It would take him the whole afternoon just pulling down all the posters in the house.

* * * *

Ian and Orlando took dinner together.

Ian tried to talk him into going out, but Orlando said he’d rather stay home.

Neither touched their sprout salads much, both of them had been too nervous. They eyed each other’s scantily fleshed torsos over the candles. Ian and Orlando were of a size. They accused one another of being too thin and then called it a truce and lit-up. Inhaling the smoke through their noses.

Ian wished they’d stayed like that, the tobacco and the sight of Orlando would have sustained him for the rest of his days.

But Orlando wanted dinner and a movie. And Orlando wanted to pick which DVD they played.

* * * *

Ian watched Legolas.

Orlando watched Ian watch Legolas.

When Ian collapsed, Orlando picked Ian up and took him outside.

"My apologies, Orlando, I think I swooned," Ian stirred awake. He was by the water, he could smell Narcissi and hear frogsong.

"Did you now," Orlando sprawled along side Ian, Orlando’s face was peering down, very close. "And why is that?"

"I wanted a quick nap?" Ian licked his lips nervously.

Orlando had lobelia and heartsease in his hair, torn from the hanging basket which he had forgotten to duck in his haste to carry Ian off.

Orlando had a wild, intent look. The Orlando-mask melted and Legolas came to the fore, then Ian saw Orlando’s eyes peering out at him through Legolas’ face and Ian sighed. The two images overlapped and merged. And then it was just Orlando again. And suddenly, Ian felt ridiculous of his Legolas’ Pictures scrapbook and his Legolas Action Figure collection.

"That time, after the match, when I said I wanted you to make love to me at night on the cricket pitch, I meant it," Orlando murmured softly. "You had no right to laugh."

"I thought you were joking," Ian said, it felt like the entire garden was sinking, the way Orlando was lowering himself over Ian.

Orlando scattered a handful of clover leaves over Ian’s hair. "Liar."

"I had a bad case of mistaken identity," Ian sighed.

"Better," Orlando eased his fingers over Ian’s chin, tiling his head up.

"I like you too," Ian said at last. "As in, a returned crush."

Orlando smooshed their mouths together and the air was perfumed with lobelias.

The End.