“Oh, my God, could Michael’s speedo BE any smaller?”
“No, I don’t think so, Chandler,” Elijah commented, nibbling on a piece of cheese.
Billy leaned towards the screen, his eyes widening. “It’s so low on his hips! You can see….LOOK! A tattoo!”
“It looks like the Olympic rings.”
“Thank you, Elijah. You are, as always, taking cues from Mr. Obvious.”
Elijah stuck his tongue out at Billy and jumped off the sofa. “Maybe this’ll be more interesting if I’m completely drunk.”
Billy ignored him, and Dom pushed him aside so he could see the big screen TV in front of them. Dom piped up, “Phelps should really consider wearing the full body suit. It’s more aerodynamic.”
“Yeah? And how would you know that? You haven’t been swimming since you were six, and certainly not in the Olympics.”
“For your information,” Dom replied haughtily. “I went swimming last week. And Ian said the full body suit is more aerodynamic, by the way.”
“Oh, Ian did, did he.” Billy put heavy, sneering emphasis on the ‘Ian.’ “I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with him.”
Dom put his nose into the air. “I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with this Michael Phelps bloke.”
Billy didn’t have anything to say to this, so he sniffed and turned back to the screen, where the announcers were talking about how big this race would be, between Michael Phelps and Ian Thorpe. Not to mention Pieter van den Hoogenband.
“Good Lord, Pieter van den Hoogenband is the BEST name EVER,” Billy squeaked, very nearly toppling off the sofa at his enthusiasm.
“It really is,” Dom agreed, for once. “But he’s got nothing on the Thorpedo.”
Billy rolled his eyes, then began singing as Elijah came back in the room with several bottles of beer; he handed one to each of them. “What are you singing?” He asked, leaning a bit towards Billy as he sat down.
“Pieter van den Hoogeband! Pieter van den Hoogenband!” Billy accompanied each recital of the popular name with loud clapping.
“Hootenanny what?” Elijah looked terribly puzzled, his nose crinkled up in thought.
“Pieter van den Hoogenband,” Dom replied very slowly, as if he were speaking to someone verbally challenged.
Elijah didn’t seem to comprehend this name, and nor did he share the other two’s enthusiasm for its greatness. He gave Dom a very odd look indeed and turned to the screen. “Oooookay.”
"Go Phelps!" Billy hollered, with his fist raised in the air. Unluckily for Elijah, who was seated between Billy and Dom, the hand Billy held up was the one clutching his beer, and lots of it slopped down on top of Elijah’s carefully coifed hair.
“Ah! Ack! Billy! You’re spilling beer all over me!” Elijah squeaked, grabbing a napkin from the coffee table and wiping himself off, casting disgusted glances at Billy every so often; Billy ignored him, his eyes glued to the screen.
“GO THORPIE!” Dom bellowed, nearly standing up in his seat, he was so excited.
“I wonder when the gymnastics is gonna be on,” Elijah commented, watching the men’s swimming disinterestedly.
Dom snorted, rolling his eyes. “Shut it, Elijah. Watch Thorpie!”
Elijah turned slightly to address his friend. “Who?”
Dom gasped loudly, putting a dramatic hand on his heart. “You don’t know him!?”
Elijah opened his mouth to respond, but Billy beat him to it.
“Don’t listen to him, Lij. Go for Phelps!”
The younger actor turned the other way, facing his other friend. “Huh?”
Billy and Dom, clearly shocked into near-silence, turned on him. Billy gaped, “Do you live in a cave?”
“Well, no---” Elijah floundered, shaking his head. “I don’t, I---”
Billy broke in, his voice very loud. “GO PHELPS! Good God, look at him GO!”
“Thorpe’s way ahead of him,” Dom argued, pointing to the screen. “Look at that stroke!”
“He’s really gonna have to keep the stamina up if he hopes to beat Phelps! You know, he’s only nineteen, but---”
“Exactly! He’s only nineteen! Ian’s two years his senior!”
“That could be a disadvantage!” Billy cried, outraged. “Michael is young, and---”
“LOOK AT THAT!” Dom was standing now, pointing to the screen in exhilaration. “WE WON!”
“You didn’t win,” Billy pointed out sourly, watching the screen as Phelps and Thorpe shook hands and smiled at one another. “You’re not from Australia.”
“Well, you’re not from America,” Dom retorted hotly, a hand on his hip, as if to say ‘so there.’
“They look like they’re in love,” Elijah mused, watching as Phelps and Thorpe hugged.
Billy inhaled very sharply. “Come again?”
Simultaneously, Dom gasped, “Beg your pardon?”
Elijah jumped up from the sofa and went towards the kitchen. “Yell at me when the next race is on!”
Dom and Billy exchanged glances. “Something is very wrong with that boy.”
“Tell me about it.” Billy shook his head and popped some chips into his mouth. “Who is in the next one?”
Dom consulted his Olympic guide (a large poster board filled with lots of boxes with times, dates and swimmers inside them) and replied blandly, “Peirsol, Aaron.”
“Ah, Aaron Peirsol,” Billy nodded. “American. Fairly good.”
Dom relaxed against the back of the couch. “Not nearly as good as Ian Thorpe, however.”
Elijah flounced back in and took his seat. “Okay. I’m almost…almost excited to see the next race.”
“Don’t be,” Billy stated angrily. “It’s only Aaron Peirsol.”
Surprisingly, Elijah sat riveted to his seat while the race took place; Dom and Billy watched, but with slightly bored expressions on their faces.
“I wanna watch Thorpie,” Dom sulked.
“Well, I want to watch Michael.”
“Why? He hasn’t even got a cool nickname.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Elijah chuckled. "You're both completely insane. It's obvious that Peirsol is the best swimmer out there."
There were several seconds of silence before all hell broke loose.
Billy and Dom jumped from their seats, both looking livid.
“You take that back right now, Shortie!” Billy hollered, putting his fists up as if he was going to fight him.
Dom took a different approach to the problem and poured his whole glass of water on top of Elijah’s head.
Elijah sputtered and coughed. “The fuck!”
“THORPIE’S ON!” Dom screeched, pushing Elijah off the couch so he could sit comfortably; Billy sat beside him, apparently unaware of Elijah still coughing on the floor.
“At least all that sticky beer from before is cleaned up,” Elijah muttered, standing to go into the bathroom.
“I wonder if Thorpie wears his own underwear?” Dom wondered aloud, watching the screen in interest, his head cocked to the side.
Elijah gave him a sidelong glance as he turned around, looking suspicious. “Are you completely inebriated? Of course he wears his own underwear! I mean, I wear my own, and you were YOUR own. Why would he wear someone else‘s?”
Billy attempted to keep the laughter at bay. “Erm, Lij? Dom means Ian Thorpe’s own line of underwear.”
“He…has…a line of…underwear?” Elijah questioned incredulously.
“Maybe he doesn’t even wear underwear,” Dom commented lightly, ignoring Elijah’s blue eyes boring into him; Elijah threw his hands up into the air and continued on to the bathroom.
“I don’t wear underwear under my kilt,” Billy announced happily, clinking his glass with Dom’s and saying, “Cheers!” There was silence while Billy chugged down some of his drink. But only for a moment.
“Do you suppose he wears his full body suit to special events? Like one might wear a kilt?”
Elijah came back out, toweling off his hair, and sat in-between them once more.
“I don’t think so,” Elijah replied doubtfully, scooting as far away from Dom on the couch as possible; he eyed him as if Dom might do something crazy at any moment.
Dom leaned across Elijah to address Billy. “I think I’d be disappointed to see him wearing regular clothes. He’d look so…odd.”
Billy chortled. “Yeah, it’d be like you going out in public without your hobbit wig and feet.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Dom trailed off, leaning back comfortably in his seat and fixing his eyes on the television screen once more.
After half a day or so of watching all the Olympic events they’d taped, the ceremonies came on. Elijah, for one, was really glad to have the whole thing over with because he was quite tired of having liquids spilled over his head.
Billy and Dom, however, were quite sad to see the day end. It had, after all, been terribly entertaining.
Dom made a disgusted face at the screen. “I wish they wouldn’t make Thorpie wear that thing. It messes his hair up horribly.”
Billy laughed. “Yeah, and Michael looks so different clothed.”
“It’s true. I think they should outlaw that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think they should make a law that states all swimmers must never wear street clothes.”
“Only swimsuits?”
“Yeah.”
“What a grand idea,” Billy approved, grinning. “We should petition to the Olympic committee.”
“Absolutely. AND we can write Thorpie and Phelps.”
“Phelps, who needs a cool nickname.”
“So true.”
Elijah cleared his throat. “If you two are through being totally gay, I’m going to take off…try to clear my head after all this swimming and do something manly.”
Billy snorted. “What, like shopping?”
“No,” Dom stated seriously. “He’s going to go home and watch all the Aaron Peirsol races that he TiVo’d.”
Elijah, blushing and looking aggravated, stalked off; the other two could clearly hear the door slam several moments later.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Billy stated seriously. “I TiVo’d all of Michael Phelps’ stuff earlier.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dom assured him. “I TiVo’d all of the Thorpie footage. But honestly, if Elijah expects not to be made fun of, he should have chosen Thorpie or Phelps and not the black sheep.”
“I don’t think Peirsol is technically a black sheep…”
“No, but he should have chosen van den Hoogenband.”