Aaaaah. The first cup of coffee of the morning. Up too damn early and incoherent into make-up, but I could get this brewing and then, while the first stage of glue was drying on those fucking ears, it was ready. Steaming gently. So aromatic I could just about pass out from the scent, making my eyes roll back in my head.
The anticipation alone was exquisite torture. But finally the make-up crew left me in peace. I raised the cup trembling to my lips.
And the door to the trailer burst open. "Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick!"
I sighed, and set the cup down again. Some people really had a way of ruining the atmosphere. And I had to have a fucking reputation for being a good shoulder to cry on. Sometimes I was just too nice for my own good. "Morning, Lij."
"I'm telling you, Liv, this time, it's over. That's it. The fucker can whistle for it." He was pacing, half-Frodo and all pissed off.
Don't lean on your hand; make-up will kill you. Sit neatly. And say: "What's Orli done this time?" The coffee was still driving me mad, wafting scent like sin.
"The fucker called me Dom! In bed! When he was fucking -" He suddenly seemed to realise he was shouting, with the door open, and quickly closed the door and lowered his voice. "When he was balls-deep in me." Volume diminished, the anger didn't.
"Fuck," I muttered. And I cared, I really did, and I hurt for him. But we'd all been watching Orli and Dom circling each other for weeks now. Hugo was even running a book, because he had no shame like that. I did care, and I wanted to help Elijah. But there was my coffee, calling like a siren in my peripheral vision.
I folded my hands in my lap to stop them twitching. "What did you do, poor thing?"
"I -" He grimaced, ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't say anything. I just... I just left afterwards. Went home. Said I was tired and- Shit! Liv, what am I going to do?"
Fuck. I was so not in Helpful Aunt Liv mood this morning. Couldn't he have waited ten minutes? "What do you want to do, sweetie?"
"That's just it, I don't know. He keeps fucking doing this to me, tying me in knots and the cunt doesn't even seem to care and-" He grimaced, smacked his head back against the door. "Fuck, Liv. I'm in love with him."
I cannot handle life-altering revelations in the morning. Not before my coffee. "Um..."
Saved by the bell. Or at least, a knock on the door. "Elijah? We need you."
Baby-blues fixed on me in agonised desperation. "We'll talk later?"
I smiled. At least, I hope I did. "Sure thing, sweetie."
The door closed behind him, and I drew a deep breath. Let it out. OK, it was all good. Ten minutes, and I'd have had my coffee, and everything would be fine. I took the cup in both hands - good, still hot - reverently, like raising an offering to God. Brought it up under my nose, inhaled the heavenly aroma, and -
A head poked around the door. "Uh, Liv, can I talk to you for a sec?"
Fighting the urge to scream, I lowered the coffee cup again, pasted my happy smile on my face. "Of course you can, Orli. I'm always here for you."
He was unhappy, I could tell by the way he slunk into the room, and slid down into a chair. Like he was staying for a while. Asshole. That was unfair, Liv. I shifted impatiently on my chair, and smiled at him. "What's up?"
"I think..." He frowned, Legolas-wigged but still Orlando-dressed. "I think I fucked up."
"Hmm?" I couldn't form a coherent sentence with my coffee right there, deep and rich.
Orlando's eyes were that colour, and would he just unburden his soul and leave already? "He left really quick last night after we... y'know, and... well, it wasn't until just this morning that I... well." He edged forward in his seat - good, closer to getting up and leaving - and looked earnest. "You ever get that thing when, like, y'know, you don't know whether it was just a dream or it really happened?"
Maybe this was a dream. A nightmare. My foot had started tapping on the floor. I trod on it with the other one. "What did you do, Orlando?"
He blinked. Yeah, OK, maybe that had come out a little clipped. "I, uh... I think maybe-I-called-Elijah-Dom." It came out as a blur of syllables. "And now... well, I just don't, y'know, know what to do. Lij... Dom... fuck."
I sighed in relief. Right, he's told me, he can fuck off now. "Well, what I think you really need now is to think long and hard about what both of them mean to you before you can really consider what to do."
He looked perplexed, and opened his mouth, but I raised a finger, smiling brightly. "Uh-uh. No talking it over before you've really thought about it. Alone. Somewhere else."
"Oh. Uh... OK." He stood, lingered with his hands in his back pockets and that slight frown on his face. Adorable. Adorable but irritating and why was he still here? "Uh, thanks Liv."
The smile was still on my face, I realised. A rictus. "Sure thing, honey."
He closed the door quietly behind him, and I just about pounced on the coffee. Oh, sweet heavenly brew, drink of the gods, my saviour, my blessed release from the early-morning hell of my existence. How I worship thee, how I crave thee. I can already feel the slip-slide of you down my throat, balm to my soul and -
A knock on the door.
My hands tightened on the cup, curled it in to my chest. "What?" I snapped.
The door opened. Dom's grin entered, followed by the rest of him. "Mornin' Livery."
That was it. That was fucking it.
"I know," I snarled. He stopped. Blinked. "I fucking know, all right. Orlando was fucking Elijah and he said your name and you're stuck in the middle all fucking innocent. Now Orlando doesn't know what to do except it's painfully obvious to the rest of us that the three of you should just sort out your fucking problems and, I don't know, maybe all just into one happy hobbity bed together, it doesn't really matter, because you're never going to, you're just going to keep fucking around and bringing your shit to me and bothering me with it!"
I was shouting. He was pale and serious, looking at me with wide eyes.
He cleared his throat. "Uh. Actually, I just wanted to borrow your Pearl Jam CD."
He looked at me. I looked at him.
"He called Lij..." He trailed off, and visibly pulled himself together. "I'll, ah, come back another time."
He closed the door behind himself almost silently, and left me alone with my coffee.
I took a mouthful. And spat it back out again. The coffee was cold.
Caffiene Withdrawal by dee
All stories are works of fan-fiction by Dee. "Fan-fiction" means that she does not own any of the core creative concepts and characters, but she does heap adulation, appreciation and awe upon those people who do hold the intellectual property rights to those concepts and characters. Further, any instances of real people are fictional, and the author does not wish to suggest any truth should be attached to the actions, emotions and words attributed to them in these fictional stories.