Title: STITCHES
Author: Kristina [[email protected]]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Elijah/Ian M.
Archive: Do not archive anywhere. Thank you.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author doesn’t know the Real Persons portrayed herein and is not insinuating anything about them. I’m pretty sure the two gentlemen in question were not even on the same continent when this fic is set.

Summary: Yet another account on what happened when Ian returned from his Intimate Audience. 

Author’s notes: Not really an actual fic, at least not as far as I’m concerned. A musing I wrote for Elanor to convince her to write her version of events several months ago and never posted. Includes minor mention of a medical issue. If you don’t like scars look away.

 

"How did it go?" Ian heard Elijah ask as soon as he stepped inside the door.

"It went fine. Very nice people."

"Any freaks?" 

Ian took off his shoes and sauntered into the living room where Elijah was seated on the couch. If seated was the right word to describe it seeing as he was half-lying on his back supported by the armrest. 

"How are you doing?" Ian knelt on the soft carpet, running his fingers lightly against the bare skin of Elijah's foot. 

"I'm doing fine. The TV is a waste of bandwidth but I've been keeping myself occupied.” He smiled grimly and waved his copy of "Being and Time". 

Ian must have been tired despite his chipper mood because it was only then that he noticed the dozen tea lights placed on porcelain saucers all over the room. A fat sage stick was pinned between the lid and wall of an old glass jar and was spreading its sweet heavy scent across the room. 

"How did you do all this?"

"I figured you'd be stressed out." 

Ian smiled. "Yes, nothing like the endless foot licking of worshipping fans to wear you down. So how did you?" 

"What do [you] think? I limped of course. I'm not an invalid you know." 

"No of course not." Ian said softly as he let his hand travel up over Elijah's leg to where the damaged knee lay hidden beneath the white gauze. He let his hand hover an inch above the wounded limb like a healer trying to repair torn flesh through will alone.  

He couldn't touch it, wasn't allowed to. It was a restricted section marked with red ink on a map as the place where all trespassing was forbidden. It was a concept that was alien to him but he nonetheless followed the instructions meticulously.  

"Thank you. It looks lovely." He moved his hand up Elijah's thigh, back into safer territory.  

"Go flick the switch on the water heater, Ian. I've prepared some Chai for us." 

"You're a most considerate boyfriend, you know. Last guy that was this friendly to me was my dad."  

It was a lie of course but Ian wanted to show his gratitude. He caressed once more the patch on Elijah's thigh where skin gave way to fabric and then he stood and left. 

He wasn’t particularly big on Chai but he drank it with joy and understood why Elijah loved it. As he came back with two full glasses in his hands Elijah produced a remote control and pressed a button. 

"Ah Norah." Ian recognized the serene voice the second it filled the room.

"I told you you'd like her album."  

"Yes you're right, I should trust your judgement more often, shouldn't I? Not that I quite understand the allure of the White Stripes..." 

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question was that?"

"Were there any freaks, Ian? Any militant Tolkien fanatics? Any Gandalf fetishists? Anyone asking for a lock of your pubic hair?" 

Ian sipped the sweet spicy liquid carefully, then sat its container down on the table. "Well there was one woman who made of fool of herself by trying to pimp her screenplay to me. Publicly." He pulled Elijah's feet into his lap and rubbed the calves up and down.  

"You're not kidding? What happened?"

"Well, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence and shifting of bottoms I took back her gift and moved on to the next question."

"You did not!" Elijah was grinning from ear to ear before he took another sip of the hot beverage. "That is so cool. My hero!" 

"There was a young lady from Preston there."

Elijah was only half-paying attention as he occupied his good leg with rubbing it against Ian's thigh. "Mmm. Where's that? The middle of nowhere?" 

Ian smiled absently and pictured what Elijah's left kneecap looked like. After one week of medication the pain had faded into something Elijah described as a dull ache accompanied by a terrible itch. Last night Ian had had to hold Elijah’s hands to keep him from tearing up the gauze and running his blunt nails across the slowly healing wound. 

He'd seen it when he helped Elijah change the gauze two days earlier.

The bone wasn't broken, and the muscle wasn't torn. Just a sprain and a stitched-up gash.  

"Something like that. I lost my virginity in Preston." 

"What?" Elijah almost coughed on his tea but it was because he was grinning widely and not because he was shocked. "I thought you lost it at University!" 

Ian shook his head. "I said I lost it [while] I was at University. I lost it in Preston. I went there on a couple of holidays." 

"Really? How did you travel there?" 

Ian turned to him and gave him an annoyed look.

"By au-to-mo-bile. Lovely invention." 

Elijah frowned as if to say 'Knock it off' before he gulped down the last of his Chai.

"What's there to see anyway?"

Ian shrugged and answered in perfect honesty.

"David." 

"Good memories?"

"Very." Ian smiled to himself.

"He treat you good?"

"Very good." Ian's smile faded away and he forced himself to change the topic. The dangers of reminiscing were taught to him a long time ago. 

"That's good." Elijah was nodding.

"I was actually nervous tonight." Ian noticed that Elijah had finished his drink and sipped his own to catch up. 

"When I auctioned off the goodies. I don't think I got it all right." Elijah smiled. "Guess you're a klutz then baby." 

"A klutz? I wasn't the one who got my shoelace stuck in an escalator." Elijah grinned but Ian winced as he said it.  

"Are you glad you went?"

"Yes. It was nice to... reconnect that way."

"To the fans?"

"To the heart of the story." 

Ian finished his cooling drink and gently pushed Elijah's legs down.  

"Come love. Let's go to bed."

"You blow out the candles."  

Ian did just that and then he watched Elijah limp to the kitchen with his glass, gingerly leaning on his bad leg. 

As soon as they were back in Ian's bedroom, he realised how tired he was and how much he'd longed for the comfort provided between the familiar walls. He'd had the same bedroom since for as long as Elijah has lived, never even thinking of changing it.  

His bed was soft and held his body while he slept.

The dresser held his clothes and the bookshelf his night literature. There was not an inch on the carpet clad floor that he hadn't paced, nor an item on his desk that he did not love. 

This was home. 

He helped Elijah pull off his one-and-a-half-legged khakis and climb up onto the mattress. 

"These fucking pants are making me feel like a poser punk rocker."

"You're not a poser?"

"Fuck you."  

The response was sleepy but the affection in Elijah's voice could still be heard.  

"Thank you for taking care of me tonight Lij."

"U-huh. Say: thank you benevolent deity." 

Ian smiled and pressed his lips against Elijah's temple. "Thank you Elijah."  

Elijah fell asleep then, with his damaged knee turned to the side, lying on his stomach with an arm wrapped around his pillow.  

Ian reached out and traced his fingers over the slim shoulders, down the side and the small of his back. 

Home.  

And then his mind wandered to the virgin knee impaled upon the metal edge of an escalator step. The phantom pain shot through his own leg as he touched the gauze tentatively.

He knew there would be a scar.

They both knew.  

And though he'd never trespass into the restricted zone he found himself fantasizing. Fantasizing about holding Elijah's jerking leg still and pressing his lips against the stitches, the delicate pain he would cause compensated by his tenderness. 

His own pain subsided as he wrapped his arm around Elijah. He knew he had his scars. They both knew.