Current mood:

accomplished

PRESENT FOR KATE!
Wow, I finally finished this. Ladies and gentlemen, I present a present for KATE.

Title: "In Which Billy Boyd Says Stuff"
Author: inbetweens
Pairing: Lij/Billy (Dom/Orlando)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If it had really happened, there would be a recording of it for sale in your local Warehouse Music and the proceeds would be going to save the rainforests because Billy is that kind of guy.
Summary: See title. Very light-hearted, but there is a plot. (Billy and Elijah make a deal.)
A gift for Kate, because she deserves indulgent fic. And a Billy.


-

That night they unanimously voted to oust the title of "The Hobbit Room" in favor of "The Tequila Room."

"El Casa de Tequila!" Dom raised a glass in toast to the name.

Next to him, Sean frowned. "Um, I don’t know if that’s right."

"Who the fuck cares? We could call it La Cucaracha de Tequila if we want," Orlando shouted, already well on his way to being the first to pass out in the Tequila Room.

"La Cucaracha de Tequila!" Billy shouted, and Sean seemed to agree that this was appropriate to toast to.

Elijah, sitting beside him, wondered if he would find those four words quite so fantastic if he was less drunk. It was possible. Still, it was Billy. He tended to find Billy pretty fantastic at all times. And Spanish with a Scottish accent, yeah, that was nice. So nice that Billy needed to say it again... Ah, hell, he might as well try his luck. "Say that one more time, Billy."

"Say wha- oh. La Cucaracha de Tequilaaaa!" He said it slowly, splicing every vowel into a thousand pieces. His tongue was a prism of sound, really. It took really boring words and made them… Rainbow-y. Hee, hee. Gay as ass-fucking.

Dom snorted. "You don’t sound very Spanish, Billy."

"I’m not trying to speak Spanish!" Billy retorted, chin held high and beautiful. "This is Mexican."

"Hee, yeah, Mexican." Orlando giggled, raising his glass. "Cheers."

"I think you’re too Scottish to be Mexican," Dom voiced as Orlando handed him the bottle.

Billy laughed. "Just give me a sombrero, I’d do just fine."

Sombrrrreeerrrrooooo. Elijah was fairly certain that he was going to subconsciously link the words "sombrero" and "hardon" for the rest of his life, or at the very least every time he even thought about Billy saying it. Round little lips that slowly curved upwards with the extra vowels. Okay, it was time to think about cold showers.

His imagination was not helping. He rephrased: cold showers that did not involve sombreros.

Sean laughed at "sombrero," but that’s because Sean had some weird resistance to the tickling of Billy’s voice in their ears. Which could probably be called heterosexuality. "I don’t think the Mexican government will let you wear a sombrero with a kilt. They’d shoot you or something."

"Hee, kilt." Orlando giggled again. "Say it again, Bill."

"What am I tonight, the drunken parrot?" Billy shook his head. "Sombrero. Sombrero. Polly want some more tequila."

"Go put on your kilt first. Or say something Mexican again." Orlando demanded.

"Just talk in Spanish," agreed Elijah, fully aware that he was begging. "It’s great.

"What, are you mocking my Mexican accent?" Billy looked offended, but Elijah knew that he couldn’t really be offended. Offended didn’t sound that sexy.

"No, we love it." Dom held out the bottle. "Just talk for us and you get the bottle."

"In Mexican? Sorry, I’ve already gone way beyond my Spanish vocabulary. What if I just say pretty please?"

"Say anything!" Dom said.

"But lots of it," Elijah added eagerly. About time they all agreed on this.

"What, in English?" Billy laughed. "Nothing special about that!"

"But you’re not speaking English, you’re speaking. Like. Scotch!" Orlando snickered and crawled into Billy’s lap, draping his arms around that perfect little waist. "Mmm, Billy, read me a story."

"Make Lijah read you a story." He pushed Orlando away gently.

Lijah. Laaaaiiieeeejaaaaaaah. Oh, God. Elijah thought about really cold showers. Peter Jackson taking really cold showers.

"Nah." Even Sean was beginning to see the light. Ah-hah, none were invincible to the power of Billy-lips. "Lij is just American, that’s boring. Scottish is more fun."

"Hee, Scottish," Orlando agreed.

Dom dangled the bottle in front of Billy’s face. "Tequila..." he reminded him.

He looked around the room in bemusement. "I, uh, we don’t have any stories." Billy was cracking. Wonderful.

"Read the phone book!" Lij found himself suggesting.

Sean’s eyes lit up, and he stood, lurching across the room until he reached the table. "Hey, we’ve got one of those!"

The attempt to toss the phone book failed miserably. It nearly knocked over the tequila. "Watch it!" shouted Dom, rescuing the bottle and clinging fearfully to it.

"Read that?" shrieked Billy.

"Yeah!" Elijah was completely in favor of this. Maybe they could record it. He could listen to it at night. Make a tape and keep it in his car. Turn down the volume during pornos and play the CD.

Billy looked at them in dismay. "It’s fucking huge!"

Huge. Elijah tittered aloud.

"Come on, now, be a good sport." Dom set the bottle in front of him.

"It’s nearly empty. I’m not reading the entire phone book for that!"

"Please?" Orlando begged. "I’ll make sad faces if you don’t."

"Not enough," Billy shook his head. "You’ll have to find something good to give for me to read an entire phonebook."

"Um, another bottle?" Dom offered.

Sean pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and squinted. "Thirty-four... No, thirty-eight... Wait... Um, some change!"

"You can have Viggo!" Orlando rested his head on Billy’s shoulder. "He’s pretty, yeah? I'll comb his hair and put like a bow on him and shit."

"Surely you can do better than that," Billy spoke calmly. "This is an awfully big phonebook."

Dom frowned. "I’ll make you breakfast?"

"Pocket lint and four dollars." Sean set it on the floor in front of them with a determined smack.

Billy shook his head grimly. "Sorry. Not going to do it."

No. No, that couldn’t happen. It was extremely important that Billy read something very long aloud, and Elijah would not let any of this ‘no’ shit continue. Someone had to give him an offer he couldn’t refuse. "A blowjob!" Elijah exclaimed.

The room was strangely silent, and Elijah realized that maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea.

"Done!" Billy declared, smiling widely.

Another unnaturally quiet moment. Dom looked at him, mouth agape, in absolute glee. Okay, yeah. Not a very good idea at all.

At last the silence was broken by a chuckled "Now this I have to see," from Sean.

It took Sean a moment and the complete attention of everyone in the room for his eyes to widen. "NO! Without the – Without, um, the part where I’d have to watch. No! Hey! Stop looking at me like that, Lij is the one that just offered to suck Billy’s dick!"

Damn. Elijah gritted his teeth and tried to think up creative and extremely humiliating ways to threaten Sean as the focus of the room shifted.

"It. Ah. It has to be the whole book!" he blurted, with the sinking feeling that he was only getting himself further into a mess.

Billy nodded emphatically. "Oh, absolutely!"

"Well." Dom rubbed his hands together, still gleeful. "Let’s begin, shall we?"

Lij swallowed before speaking. (Oh, ha, ha, very funny.) "Um, I suppose so."

Billy opened the book to the first page. "A. Aaron, A. Shall I read the addresses and phone numbers, too?"

Sean winced. "Numbers are a lot."

"Yeah," Orlando interjected. "But addresses. There might be, like, Sombrero Road. You gotta read that, man." He tugged urgently at his shirt sleeve.

Elijah laughed, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Oh, hell, they were drunk. No one would remember this tomorrow, and Billy was going to read the phone book. "Long way to go, man. Come on!"

"Whatever you want. You’re the one that’s going to blow me." With a terribly charming smile, he looked down and cleared his throat. "Aaron, A. Six hundred four Summer Ridge. Aaron, Abigail. Ninety four Crestwicke Hill. Aaron, Archibald. Forty three thirteen Brecklin Street. Aaron, Arnold. Seventy three Carol Brook."

Brook. Yes. It was going to be a good night.

"Mmm." Orlando rustled around until he was comfortable, his head on Billy’s thigh. "Your voice tastes like tequila."

Billy paused for a while, apparently considering his assertion. "Sure," he finally agreed. "Now. Aaron, Belinda. Nineteen zero five Martin Drive."

"Nah," Dom murmured softly, as if already lulled half-asleep by the wavy syllables of Billy’s voice. "It’s got to be Scottish-tasting."

"A big green hill," Sean giggled somewhat maniacally.

Dom burst out laughing. "How the fuck do you know what a big green hill tastes like?"

"How do you know what Scottish tastes like?" Sean retorted. Very clever, Elijah mused. Sean was so smart. That was why he was a hobbit. Even if he was married and heterosexual and all that madness. He understood stuff. Scottish stuff.

Um, yeah... Elijah gave up on that thought and leaned forward, stretching his body out stomach-down like a cat. "C'mon, Bill," he urged. "I'm a paying customer!"

Billy cackled. "Well, sir, am I going fast enough for you? Too slow? Do you want extra vowels with that?"

"Nah, good speed," Elijah told him. "Maybe a little slower would be okay. I'd like to savor that thing you do with your o's. And it would probably be nice if you let your voice be, uh. Deep."

"Whatever you want. Now, back to the reading?"

"Yes, thank you." Elijah smiled at him, pleased.

"Damn," Dom drawled. "Billy, are you going to let that boy order you around like that?"

"Absolutely, if it means I get to be just as picky with what he does with his mouth later." Billy waggled his tongue at Elijah and winked before looking back down at the phone book.

"Hee, mouth!" Orlando giggled weakly. He closed his eyes and passed out rather gracefully, still using Billy's leg as a pillow.

Billy chuckled, a warm oceanic rumble, deep and wide. "Aaron, Carl. Four hundred ninety two George's Road." Elijah smiled and let the sounds slide over him, through him, wet and warm and. Billy looked up for a moment, eyes meeting Elijah's. They were light but dark and heavy but teasing and promising and promising. WetwarmBilly.

Billy looked back down. Elijah listened.

"Aaron, Cecil. Seventeen Petra Way. Aaron, Doyle. Three hundred nine Lavender Drive. Aaron, Frederick…"

-

Elijah awoke and instantly regretted it.

Screw that, he decided, and rolled over.

-

Elijah awoke again when Sean yanked him out of the bed. "Augh," he protested weakly before his ass slammed to the ground.

"Feet," Sean rumbled, glaring groggily down at him.

Elijah opened his mouth and managed a raspy "Haaaaaaungmph." Hmm. Not working. I can explain, Seanie; my vocal chords were drinking, not me. He tried again. "No Feet."

Firm hands fastened too tightly around his arms, jerking his body a few inches off the ground for a few stomach-turning seconds. "Feet," Sean repeated more insistently.

Did Sean actually think that Elijah was capable of standing aright? That was a little too far along in the evolutionary process for him this morning, thank you very much. "I fucking hate Feet," he moaned, letting Sean tug at his miserably sleepy arms.

"Feet fucking hate you," boomed the response as the grasp tightened. "You are not going near tequila ever again, you lightweight. Now on three you're going to stand up, and I'll help you figure out where to put your legs."

"No," Elijah moaned, but shifted until he was pretty sure his legs were uncrossed. If he stood up, maybe Sean would stop bothering him.

"One. Two. THREE." Elijah's shoulders protested in agony and his knees jutted against each other but in a few seconds Elijah's spine was upright: head too high, feet and stomach planted firmly upon the ground.

Sean ruffled his hair – bad idea, Elijah thought in panic as the room spun. "I shouldn't have let you have that much," he muttered with something like guilt leaking into his voice. "Peter's going to kill you if you're not conscious by eight."

Yes, Peter. Eight. Eight? Right, shooting. Shooting a movie. Oh! He had to go to Feet now!

He reached out and patted Sean (or possibly the wall) lightly on the shoulder (or possibly on the, um, wall). "Thank you, Sean," he said with all the sincerity his hung-over little heart could muster.

"You're sticking to light beer from now on," Sean grumbled, swinging an arm around his shoulders. "Let's walk now. Forward. You can have coffee when you get there."

Coffee. Elijah knew there was a reason he'd always loved Sean.

-

Elijah stepped into the dawn on plastic feet, outlook upgraded to only mostly miserable. He was, however, awake now, and ready to work. Just takin' this here ring to Mordor, mister, that's all.

The pink daylight was streaked and blotched by the clouds, as if God was a naughty toddler who'd smeared the sun all over the sky. Dewdrops clung to shy blades of grass and toes he couldn't feel; washed clean. Elijah's eyes itched and his head throbbed, but it was just another morning. He would somehow make it to lunch break. Until then, there was coffee and a fantastic sunrise.

And Billy.

Yes, that was Billy walking toward him with sparkling eyes and an inviting smile. Lips parted generously for his teasing teeth to peek out, wig perfectly tousled, strides leading him directly to Elijah. Smiling for me, Elijah found himself thinking, and returned the gesture, pausing to let Billy approach him.

He lifted an unsteady hand in greeting. "Morning, Bill."

"Ceris, Ashley. Fifty-five Leopold Court," he replied with far too much cheer.

Elijah froze, trying to sort out exactly why Billy seemed to think that was an acceptable substitute for "good morning." For that matter, why was he carrying a –

Oh God.

Dread rose in his throat like bile as the specifics of the previous night hit him. Tequila. Sombreros. A promised blowjob. And, shit, toe-sucking? No, his memory soothed momentarily. The toe-sucking had been entirely Dom.

Elijah, however, had definitely been the one to promise to blow Billy. And Billy had definitely not forgotten it.

"Ceronalt, Jeffrey. One hundred Clark Way," Billy proceeded, an idiotic grin sliding over those perilously Scottish lips. Ceroy, Emily. Seventy-two Ashford Walk."

"Okay, very funny, Boyd. But..." He racked his brain frantically for a reason that Billy should not continue. "It's a long phonebook. Huge, even. And if you don't want to read the whole thing, we can just call it off. No hard feelings."

"Elijah, with those sweet little baby lips you have, there is no way I'm calling it off." A smirk, another name. "Cesa, Melanie. Fourteen-"

"But I was drunk!" Elijah interjected, reaching out to grab the telephone book. "You can't take a drunken man's promises seriously!"

Billy jerked away from him, cradling the book to his chest. "I was drinking, too. But my ability to drink you under the table is clearly nature's way of granting me permission to take advantage of you."

"It is not!"

"Cesada, Martin. One thousand three Milton Place."

"You can't do this!" Elijah insisted with an increasing sense of panic.

"Cesh, P. Fourteen Arbor Way."

"You're only on the C's. This will take you ages!"

"Cetts, Caroline. Box four, three hundred twelve Ignatius Road."

"You..." Elijah threw his arms up in despair and gave in to his arsenal of slightly less mature insults. "You suck."

"No, Lijah. You do." Billy leered at him in glee and returned to his precious phone book. "Ceys, Narcissa. Forty-nine Melody Lane."

"I hate you!" Elijah turned, grinding his teeth together, and started to walk away.

"That's not what you said last night." He found himself face-to-face with Dom, whose focus looked about as muddy as Elijah's. "Well, fuck. Are you really going to read the whole phone book?"

"Absolutely. I'm about halfway through the C's."

"He is not going to read the whole phone book," Elijah assured his friend. "And, while we're at it, he's no more than a third of the way through the C's."

"A little over halfway, actually." Billy was still grinning that idiotic grin. That unbelievably endearing, alluring, sexy, and idiotic grin. This was not fair. Fate clearly hated Elijah.

Dom's raspy laugh broke into a cough about halfway through. "Wow. This is fucking amazing, you two."

"Well, I can only hope. Now, I believe we were on Chad, Robert. Ninety-one Albatross Road."

"Dom!" Elijah turned to him and hissed the plea softly. "Do something about this!"

Dom cocked his head to the side slowly, confusion clouding his already-muddled expression. "Do what?"

"I don't know! Stop him! Make this end before it goes too far!" Elijah grabbed his arm and didn't mind when his voice squeaked in desperation. "Please! You have to!"

Dom just patted him on the head and smiled, turning to walk away. "Sorry, cocksucker."

"Hey! Toe-sucker!" Elijah retorted before really thinking that comeback through. Hopefully Dom and Billy would just forget he'd ever said something that lame.

"That's a fetish. This is prostitution. Besides, you're still a cocksucker, and I've got places to be. See you two and the phone book in a few minutes!" He waved cheerily at Billy as he stumbled off.

Billy waved back, momentarily looking up from the book. "You're stuck with this, Lijah. There's no way I'm letting this one just slide from my memory. It's just too good to pass up. Chadwicke, Laura. Three Milan Drive."

Elijah stomped away, and couldn't really think of anything he could do when Billy followed him. Fucking hell.

-

The absolute worst part was that it was still unbelievably sexy. The appeal hadn't lessened any now that Elijah was painfully sober. Billy always exuded confidence, but now it was even worse. Billy was downright cocky as he read. He was masculine and seductive and Elijah wasn't sure he would be able to bear it if any of his attempts to leave Billy behind actually worked.

So really, when he gritted his teeth and muttered, "Go away," he would win either way. If it actually had worked, he would have been spared complete embarrassment. And since it never worked, he got to hear the gentle rise and fall of Billy's voice wherever he went.

Still, he could have done just fine without the embarrassment.

The second-worst part was explaining to everyone why Billy was following him everywhere and reading from a phone book every available moment.

Viggo just stared at them with his strangely amused grimace. "The entire Wellington phone book?"

"It's not just Wellington," Sean reported. "The entire metro area. It's quite a lot of names."

"Which is why Billy is not going to finish reading it," Elijah interjected hurriedly. "Aside from the fact that Sean wouldn't let a friend get suckered into a situation like this."

Sean shook his head. "Elijah, I wouldn't let a friend go back on a bet."

"Sean!" Elijah wailed. "How could you do this to me?"

"Sounds like you kind of did it to yourself." Orlando rested an elbow on Dom's shoulder and leaned against him. "Did you offer the blowjob or did he, like, ask for one? Cause that wouldn't be quite as bad, you know?"

Elijah stopped raging to stare at Orlando, confused. "Orli, you were there."

Amazement flooded Orlando's eyes. "I was?"

Dom grinned, obviously relieved. "Elijah offered. Just said it out of nowhere. 'I'll blow you if you read the phone book,' or something along those lines."

"It went nothing along those lines!" Elijah shrieked.

"Hey, a lot happened that night. Excuse me for not remembering the exact details, but you really did offer him a blowjob out of nowhere." Dom was smirking. Cunt.

"But I bet you remember the flavor of Orlando's toes just fine," Elijah grumbled.

Dom paled. "What are you implying?"

Orlando slithered an arm around Dom's shoulders, ruffling his hair in the process. "Dommie, I do remember some things about last night, you kinky freak."

Dom paused in mortification before replying, "You know you liked it."

"I think we both know I liked it. Oh, yeah." Orlando's voice dropped and his hand slid down to Dom's waist.

"Excuse me, have we forgotten the real issue here?" Elijah didn't really have any problem interrupting a reprise of their kinky moment. "Billy is coercing me!"

Viggo spoke up at last. "Yes, let's look at the central issue again. Last night, there was some drinking. And you offered to blow Billy if he read aloud the entire Wellington phone book?" He looked over at Billy, who was taking a break, letting the book rest open on his knees.

"Yes!" Elijah confirmed. "Viggo, come on. You can do something about it. Get your sword or something, I don't know, tell him to-"

Viggo held up one hand, pressing the other to his lips as he turned. He walked away without another word, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Viggo?" Elijah called out hopefully. "Are you going to do something about it? Please?"

Viggo shook his head as he walked, and left Elijah standing hopeless. He asked "Orlando?" half-heartedly, already knowing the answer.

"Elijah, there is no way I'm voting no to someone getting a blowjob. Just enjoy the reading." He paused for a moment. "Hey, Dom. I'm going to let Deanna from Makeup paint my toenails in a bit, if you wanna watch."

Dom inhaled sharply, eyes bulging out. "Oh, God."

Orlando grinned and walked away, pausing to talk to Billy. Traitor.

Elijah held his hands over his face, massaging his temple. "Dom, I... This is so insane. So stupid. Billy will just let this go on for about a day and then forget about it, right? I mean, everyone knows this can't be serious. We'll all have a good laugh about it, and tomorrow things will be back to normal. I'm sure I'll get called a cocksucker for the rest of filming, but everyone gets those kinds of nicknames, and I can learn to get used to it. And he's not going to go through with it, right? Because he can't. Right?" He uncovered his eyes. "Dom?"

Dom's eyes were unfocused and glazed with lust. "Think Orli was serious about that offer?"

Elijah sighed and walked over the table, ready for Billy to resume humiliating him.

-

The entire cast cheered when Billy started the E's during the lunch break. Elijah was more than slightly alarmed at the pace with which Billy was completing the phone book. He read it aloud at every available moment, forsaking his own lunch to finish up the D's. Elijah gritted his teeth and ate through every Daniel and Davidson. Someone invariably snickered every time he stuck a bite into his mouth.

After the last "Eastham," Elijah slunk away to the shot. Fortunately, today nothing was demanded of Frodo save walking, standing, and looking alarmed. He wasn't sure Peter would appreciate it if he cited a blowjob as the reason for botching his lines. But Billy wouldn't be reading tomorrow, so he would never have to find out. Right. He would just keep telling himself that.

Ian grabbed him by the arm as he passed, pulling him close. "Elijah. I've finally caught you without your gentleman caller." The technicians and other actors seemed to gather around them to listen in, eager for a continuation of the Elijah Wood Blowjob Extravaganza. They should sell fucking peanuts.

He had no pride left, though, and waited patiently for Ian's opinion. He looked up at him with his most pathetic and desperate eyes, hoping it would work. Maybe he could get out of this after all. Ian was a good man.

Their audience had grown totally silent in anticipation. Ian took a deep breath. "Elijah..." He paused thoughtfully before doubling over with laughter. "I'm sorry. I have no words suitable for the situation."

"Make a video," Chris suggested with a chuckle.

"Yes! Chris, you are absolutely brilliant! Elijah, ask someone to videotape." By now Ian's face was flushed pink with glee, and everyone within earshot was either laughing or volunteering their services as cameraman.

Elijah stomped off muttering eternal hatred for the lot of them.

-

Elijah walked back to his trailer as quickly as possible, not quite sure exactly how he'd managed to escape Billy after getting out of costume. Hopefully, if he walked fast enough, he would be free from him for the whole evening.

"Lij!" The voice was feminine, sweet, and definitely not tallying the name and address of every Wellington citizen, therefore it was welcome.

Elijah turned to face Liv, who was leaning against the door to her own trailer, and tried to smile at her. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm great." She looked him over carefully, lips pressed together in a thin, concerned line. "Do you want to come in for a second? Just hang out for a little while?" She moved toward the door, turning the knob without waiting for an answer, but hesitated before opening it.

"Uh, sure," he replied. She smiled at the reply, and beckoned for him to follow her inside.

Liv's room was neater than Elijah's, though not significantly. She'd hung a few photos in conspicuous spots on the wall. Each featured groups of smiling people holding on to each other and generally looking as if they were having the times of their lives. Elijah didn't recognize any of the faces except Liv's and her father's. Liv sat on a chair to the right of that photo, and Elijah took the one opposite hers. "So, what's up?" he asked sheepishly.

Liv leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and bit her lower lip thoughtfully before speaking. "Elijah, you seem... I'm worried about you."

Elijah jerked to attention in his seat, a little spark traveling along his spine. "You what?"

"I mean, you're so young. I know you were lonely earlier, and homesick. That's not the sort of thing that just goes away, and no one expects that. It's okay to tell anyone if something's wrong. And it's okay to develop attachments, and to admit to those attachments." She paused, studying his eyes. "I know you're worried, though. I can see it. You're afraid. You think you're going to fail somehow, and I promise, that's just not possible. He'll accept you, Elijah, he really will. I know it."

Elijah didn't quite know how to respond. He hadn't thought Liv would be able to read him that easily.

She continued, speaking a bit more quickly. "This isn't the best way to go about it, but it has to happen somehow. Besides, I can understand how things just get carried away. You let your feelings for Billy get in the way, but now you're scared. I promise, though," she reached out and took his head, smiling gently. "There is nothing to be scared of. You'll learn without any problem. And you will be fine at it, I promise."

Her speech suddenly made slightly less sense. "I'll learn what?"

She beamed. "I can give you pointers if you need. I was a little scared at first, too, but at least you're preparing yourself for this. You've got time to get ready, mentally, and there's no shame in this. Everyone has to learn at some time, right? Well, almost everyone. And you will be just fine at it. I know you will. You've got the right kind of lips for it."

"I what?" he asked weakly, the meaning of her speech slowly dawning on him.

"You've got good blowjob lips. That's what they tell me, anyway. So just don't be nervous about it. You'll do great. I'll help you through it, though not literally, because that would be kind of gross. But I can definitely give you ideas on what to do and what to not do. It will be really helpful, I promise. If someone had sat me down like this before I tried to give a blowjob for the first time, I would have been a lot better off. You'll see, you'll be great at it. In fact, if you want, I have Popsicles in my freezer. I could-"

"Liv!" Elijah wailed. "I do not need a lesson on how to give a blowjob!"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, you're awfully nervous about it. And I'm warning you, if you've never tried it before, it's an awful shock. You've got a stronger gag reflex than you probably think you do. Then there's the spit or swallow problem, and if you've-"

Elijah stood. "No. Liv, I assure you, there will be no blowing. I will not be needing your lessons, even if I was going to blow Billy, as I am a well-trained, but there will be no blowing. None. Ever. And if there is it is my own business and please never try to discuss my gag reflex with me again, as it's a little uncomfortable."

Liv's lips twitched, and Elijah was just going to pretend that wasn't a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Elijah, Billy's going to read the whole phone book. The whole cast is counting on you to blow him."

"Well, I will not blow him. Or a Popsicle. Or anyone." He walked across the room and opened the door.

Viggo was standing on the doorstep, a bemused expression spread across his face. "What's this, Elijah, is Liv trying to talk you into giving her a blowjob?"

Elijah growled slightly as Liv laughed uproariously, and he shoved Viggo out of the way with all of the rage he could muster. Popsicles, indeed. That was downright insulting. He marched toward the safety of his own room with tightly clenched teeth. His only consolation was that Billy wasn't waiting for him outside, and even that was strangely infuriating.

-

The phone rang when Elijah's room was still black and his eyelids were still sticky against each other. It jerked him out of a deep, dark slumber, and disoriented him completely for a moment. When he found the sense to lift the phone to his ear, he answered it with merely, "Mmm?"

"Erndale, Peter. Ninety-three forty Marigold place. Ernie's Pizzeria, fourteen Blue Crest Road."

He had somehow been expecting that, just as he was now expecting to hear the Z's in a few days, but that didn't make it any less of a jolt. Or any less irritating. Or any less arousing. "Go away." Elijah hung up the phone, rolled over, and waited for the alarm to go off, suddenly very much awake.

-

That afternoon, Sean Bean set the largest dildo Lij had ever seen on the lunch table in front of him.

Elijah stared at it incredulously. Not only was it a dildo, but it was a foot long and fluorescent pink. He bet that it glowed in the dark. Furthermore, it was sitting on the table, right between a can of Sprite and a ravaged box of cookies. It rolled lazily over the wood, coming to rest against the side of the aluminum can, pointing flamboyantly at Elijah.

Well. That was probably the one thing he'd least expected to find in his lunch. He awaited the punch line with the bright pink color burning a phallus into his retina.

"For practice," Bean explained casually. "Billy's freaking huge, man."

Lij stared at it for a moment longer, obviously unable to keep eating his sandwich now. Right. Practice. "How much did Billy pay you to do this?"

Low chuckle. "He said if I did a good job I could get you to blow me, too."

Elijah pulled his eyes away and punched him in the arm, hard. Bean just laughed and walked away. Wanker.

He gave it one last glance before pushing it off the table, letting it roll onto the ground. It bounced a little, flopped about obscenely. Elijah wasn't going to need practice. Besides, he'd checked out Billy enough to know that he was definitely not a foot long.

The flush of pride at that only lasted for a moment, until he realized that he had Billy's crotch memorized. He kicked the dildo as he stomped off.

-

Elijah got used to it fairly quickly. Sure, everyone on the set seemed to feel it was necessary to make at least one "Elijah licks dick" joke every day, and he couldn't even look at a telephone without drowning in shame anymore, but it really wasn't that bad.

Sometimes he didn't even notice the readings. The night of the M's, they all sat around the television laughing and poking fun at Viggo.

"Not paying any attention at all," Orlando told them, one hand around a bottle, the other on Dom's knee. "He's just staring off into space, right? Thinking, like, artsy thoughts."

"McDonahue, Karl. Fifty-seven Martin Drive."

John cut in to tell the rest of the story. "And he walked staring straight ahead, with a vacant look in his eyes. Walked straight into the horse."

Sean hooted into delight. "Did he hurt the horse?"

"McDonald, Deanna. Nine hundred thirty-one Arlington Way."

"Nah," Orlando made a face at the suggestion. "Startled it a little, but you should have seen Viggo. His eyes got fucking huge and he launched into, like, panic mode. Tense and shaky, as if the horse had attacked him. And in the meantime, God, there's this horse slowly turning around to face him."

Even Viggo chuckled as Orlando pantomimed the moment, acting out first the part of Viggo, then the horse.

"No, no," John stood and stepped close to Orlando. "More like this. You be the horse, I'll be Viggo."

"McDorrow, Kate. Eleven ninety-two Yarrow Road."

Orlando was nearly doubled over laughing, but he nodded, taking a moment to get into character. He stood motionless and serious, surveying the room stoically and chewing on an imaginary mouthful of grass. John crossed his eyes and ambled forward slowly, mouth slightly open. After about three steps, he ran smack into Orlando and let out a horrific battle cry, jumping about a foot into the air. He lifted his fists into the air, eyes wild and battle-ready, glancing around twitchily. Orlando kept chewing, and turned to face John with a stony expression. Elijah nearly fell out of his chair from laughing so hard.

He didn't even realize that Billy had still been reading until Billy walked him home, accompanied by the litany of Merchant through Miles.

Sometimes he was rescued from the readings. Billy reached the O's the next afternoon, and whispered them into his ear as Peter muttered improvements at the script in his hands. The breath on his skin prickled thousands of hairs and tugged at nerves Elijah hadn't even known existed, tempting him to squirm, scream, beg. Possibly all of the above. "Orwell, Katrina. Four hundred twenty two Grey Street. Osborne, Melanie. One thousand twenty-three Partridge Drive." It was torture. He tried to listen to Peter, standing as tall as possible and not thinking about it (not thinking about it not thinking about it not thinking not thinking), but Billy's lips were grazing his ear and his hard consonants thrust against his skull. "Osmond, Cl-"

Finally, Peter put his hands on his hips and put a stop to it. "For the love of God, Billy. I realize that half the cast would kill for a blowjob from Elijah Wood, but I've got a movie to film. Hobbits don't blow hobbits. Tolkein would crawl out of his grave and strangle you if anyone told him you were doing this in your Pippin costume. Not only are you distracting Elijah and yourself, the entire cast is salivating at the mental images. Save it for your own time."

Everyone laughed, and Billy closed the phone book with a grin, setting it to the side. Elijah was almost certain that he was relieved.

Later he pulled Dom to the side and asked awkwardly, "What did Pete mean, that comment about half the cast wanting to see me give a blowjob?"

Dom patted him on the shoulder and would offer no explanation save: "Fingernails and cigarettes, Elijah. Oral fixation."

And sometimes Elijah lived for the readings. Sometimes he was caught off guard by the words mid-page, tumbling deeper into obsession at a new syllable, or an epiphany of how remarkable any particular vowel was.

Billy only stumbled over one name, but Elijah was fairly certain he would remember it until the day he died. He looked up sharply from the conversation, his next words forgotten on his lips, when Billy's voice broke around the name. "Rjya- Oh, good God. Rjyansh- Rjyanshchevek, Alyona. Hah!" He looked up, met Elijah's eyes, and grinned. "I'll never be able to be able to say that one again."

Elijah knew it wouldn't have held the same power if it had flown evenly from Billy's tongue. Its beauty came in the choppy, awkward tongue-twisting. It was remarkable because it had nearly trapped Billy. It had come out jagged and uneven. It was not only charming but erotic in its imperfection.

Those moments of awe at his voice only increased as it filled his ears more and more, never cloying or overdone. The urgency of preventing Billy from finishing also increased, but his actual desire to do so did not. He could have listened to the tide of consonants for the rest of his life.

When Elijah realized that he was perfectly willing to blow Billy, he decided it was probably time to really put an end to this before he did something that would put his family and his agent to eternal shame.

-

Dom barely looked up when Elijah stormed into his room, screamed, and flopped onto his bed, curling into a ball of desperation.

After a moment Elijah looked up, a bit put off that Dom would think so little of his emotions that such a display of angst would simply be ignored. "Got a sec, Dom?" he asked with what he hoped was a melancholy and broken tone.

"Hey, Lij, sure. What's going on?"

He sighed and let his face fall back onto the nest of sheets, mashing his nose against the mattress. "I threw it out. I took that stupid phone book and threw it out. I fucking burned it, and threw the ashes out. It was gone. I was out of danger. Everything was going to be just fine, because he wasn't going to be able to finish reading it. And what did Miranda do? I can't even believe it, I would have never expected this kind of cruelty from her. While Billy was still looking for the book, along with everyone I thought I could trust, she fucking went out and got a new phone book. I can't even believe her. You should have seen his face light up when she handed it to him, should have heard everyone cheer when he resumed the reading. It made me want to fucking kill them."

He sighed and rolled over, speaking to the ceiling now. "I just don't know what I'm going to do. I can't follow through with this stupid deal. I figured he would play along for a day and everyone would have a good laugh about it. Then the next morning we would brush it off, and we would just bring it up on occasion to laugh at each other. Orlando would ask me to blow him every time he got drunk, and Ian would wink at me occasionally, and that would be the only lasting outcome. But he's actually going to finish this. Then what am I supposed to do? And, yes, I do like Billy. A little. Nothing big, I don't want to marry him or anything, for God's sake, and I don't want to blow him! I can't actually go through with my end of the deal. The cast would never, ever talk about anything else. And what if he doesn't intend for me to actually do it and things get really weird and he never comes within ten feet of me again? But, on the other hand, I can't just go back on a promise, no matter how drunken. Dom, man, I'm fucked. You've got to help me out. Help me figure out some way to keep Billy from finishing this." He sat up and turned to Dom beseechingly. "Dom, please, help?"

Dom's blinked several times in rapid succession, eyes slowly focusing on Elijah's face. "Sorry, can you repeat the bit you said after you started talking about Orli? I got a bit distracted."

Elijah fell back onto the bed. "Right. Thanks for the help, man."

Dom shrugged, grinning. "Didn't realize I did. You’re welcome, I guess. Hey, do these jeans look okay on me? Not so tight that they look slutty, right?"

Elijah glanced at him quickly. "You're fine."

"Okay. Good. Just, you know, making sure. I'm off for now. Have fun with Billy tonight!" He giggled a little as he left.

"I'd have more fun licking the bathroom sink clean," Elijah muttered, but Dom had already shut the door behind him.

-

He had Billy's lips trapped, finally silenced, pinned against his. He stilled Billy's tongue with his own and whispered words into that mouth, filling it with his own shapes. Billy's hands moved on their own, caressing Elijah's body, but his lips moved only with Elijah's, only for him, and when he whispered once into his lips, it was only Elijah's name. Not another name, never another name again, only him as the hands quickened and, oh-

The phone rang.

The fucking telephone. Elijah jerked out of the dream gasping and sweaty and extremely frustrated. He ached for it, for Billy and his lips and release, and another few seconds would have done it if the fucking telephone hadn't rang. He answered with a snarl. "What?"

"Smith, A. Eighty-eight Tara Boulevard."

Something hotter and silkier than fury simmered beneath his skin. He shuddered and relaxed slightly, lying back in his bed. He glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the morning, and Billy had called just to read him the Smiths.

Just to read him the Smiths. There were a hundred cruel things he could have shouted into the phone to berate Billy for waking him, but it wouldn't have changed a thing. Billy was going to read the entire Smith section to him no matter what he did.

He'd called just to read to Elijah. Even if this was just a stupid practical joke gone too far, Billy had disrupted his own sleeping schedule as well as Elijah's to whisper this quietly to him, privately. This was strangely intimate, strangely special.

"Smith, Angelina. Seven hundred nine Vineyard Street. Smith, Bert. One hundred eleven Mile Creek Court."

Billy's voice was softer than usual, and he read the names more slowly, letting the syllables lap together like waves. Gentle. Purposeful. Close, so close, as if he was here, sitting on Elijah's bed and whispering in his ear. As if he was pressed against Elijah, curled up around his body, voice sliding into him as his hands dripped over his skin. Elijah shut his eyes and listened, hips twisting at the very idea.

"Smith and Broderick, Incorporated. Sixty one Main Street. Smith, Byron. Nine thousand three hundred two, Crescent Place."

Speaking for him, stretching the words out just for him. Billy was savoring their taste just as Elijah was, savoring this shared moment. Perhaps Billy was imagining that he was whispering these words against Elijah's ear, too, imagining that he was here to touch him, to let the addresses fade into gentle kisses along Elijah's neck...

Elijah wasn't aware of reaching down to stroke himself, but there were his fingers, and it didn't seem wrong. Such a personal moment, and he needed it so badly, needed to hear Billy whisper like this. Needed to touch himself.

"Smith, Christopher. Eighty-two thirty-four Mills Place. Smith, Coral. Seventy Martin Court. Smith, Daphne. Seven hundred ninety five James Street."

There was a sort of meter to it. Not as clear as something that could be transcribed onto music paper, or something a drummer could play along with, but it was easy enough to follow, like the tide kissing the coast. Very even, very soothing, and Elijah's fingers followed along with a complementing rhythm. "Smith" rose and the final syllable of the names fell, guiding his hand up, down, up down.

"Smith, Emmett. Fifty-one Laurel Springs Road. Smith, Fiona. Twenty Careen Place."

He inhaled deeply, listening, letting it soak into his body, down to his fingertips. Faster, something inside him begged, but he couldn't bear to break away. This was Billy's rhythm for him, intended for no one but him, gentle and purposeful. It would be his guide, and he would stay true to it. Just like that, up, down, slow. Yes.

"Smith, Henrick. Fourteen Amelia Way."

Hypnotized, no. Not quite. Lulled, pushed, pulled, like making love, like pushing inside someone. Like he was just a body, like he was just a bundle of quivering, aching nerves, like he was nothing but need for Billy. Please, please, yes.

He came on ninety-two Greenwood Lane with Tabitha Smith and no more than a sigh. He lay back against his pillow and shut his eyes, letting the final names wash over him, lapping over his body. Billy's voice slowed his blood, thickening it with pleasure and a heavy peacefulness.

"Smith, Yvonne. Seventy three Vineyard Street." Billy paused, and Elijah might have imagined the contented sigh. "That's all of them. Goodnight, Elijah." There was a soft click. Elijah listened to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up and slipping into a dreamless sleep.

-

"Hey, Orli," Dom started, too casually. "I'm going to get another beer. Want to help me grab a few for Lij and Billy?"

Orli shrugged. "I'm fine, and they haven't even opened theirs yet."

"Oh. I suppose they haven't." Dom glared with such ferocity that Elijah immediately took a deep swig of his beer.

Billy glanced up, decided it wasn't worth his time, and went back to reading. "Williams, George. Sixty-eight Mills Place."

Elijah watched his lips move, the dedication with which his tongue brushed against his teeth. Did he know what had happened last night, or how it still made the skin along Elijah's spine tingle? Billy's eyes gave no indication, and Elijah was left fidgeting in his seat, trying not to think about it.

"Williams, Myrtle. Thirty-nine Porido Drive. Williams, Veronica. Two hundred Roman Street."

"Actually," Dom started. "I'm going to go get another beer after all. Orli, can you show me where they are?"

Orlando furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Dom, this is your place. You know where you keep the beer."

"Oh. Hah. Right." Dom slumped down in his seat, grinding his teeth together.

"Williamson, Benjamin. Three hundred twenty-nine Ginger Road."

Dom sat upright suddenly, and spoke very, very quickly. "Actually, I think I want a different kind of beer. How about we go get some?"

Orlando shrugged. "You just bought that weird German stuff yesterday, and I have Australian at my place if you really want it."

"No," Dom insisted, eyes bright. "Another kind."

"Williamson, David. Twenty-three Dardanelle Way."

Orlando folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Well, what kind? Someone around here has got to have whatever you want."

"Another kind," Dom growled.

"Williamson, Marvin. Four hundred sixty-six Crescent Place."

Orlando looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, okay, then go get it. Whatever."

"No, I think we need to leave Billy and Elijah alone," Dom spoke quickly, as if this was a very important idea. "Just in case they finish up tonight and need Elijah to pay up, you know?"

"Williamson, Vernon. Twenty-nine forty-one Church Road."

Orlando set his bottle down with a loud clatter. "Dom, what's wrong with you tonight? You're, like, not making any sense. Billy just said he was getting to the Y's tonight. Saving the Z's for tomorrow night. Just go and stop talking about it."

Dom's fingers curled into fists, and he didn't reply. He just sat stiffly in his chair for a moment.

"Willow, Pe-"

"For fuck's sake, Orlando, can we go fuck somewhere?" Dom finally exploded, leaping to his feet.

Billy froze, mouth hanging open.

"Oh!" Orlando's eyes shone, too wide. "Oh! Fuck yes, Dom!" He stood and nearly jumped into Dom's arms, and promptly pressed their mouths together, licking and biting at his lips frantically. "Dom, fuck," he gasped, pulling Dom's hips harshly towards him. "I didn't know."

"How the fuck could – FUCK – could you have not known?" Dom wheezed, grinding against him. "I've wanted you since the fucking moment I saw you. You fucking idiot."

"You're the fucking idiot. You could have just fucking asked. And FUCK, Dom, yes." One of Dom's hands had found the front of Orlando's jeans, the other cupping his ass and pushing their bodies together. They arched against each other, bodies crashing almost violently together. "Dom. Oh, fuck."

"Let's just go," Dom panted.

"Fuck yes." The two practically ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

Elijah stared at the shut door, not entirely sure what had just happened. It was too impossible. He turned to face Billy.

Billy's jaw was halfway to his lap, exactly where he'd left it when Dom had started the mess of limbs and obscenities. He blinked slowly, and met Elijah's eyes, mirroring his bewilderment.

Something solid but soft slammed into the door and a cry echoed through the room, followed by another, quieter thunk against the wood.

"Well," Billy finally said, eyes still wide and almost frightened.

"Well," Elijah agreed.

"Fuck," someone moaned, wet and rough.

"Oh. I think we should probably, um, leave," Billy suggested.

Elijah stood quickly. "Yes. Great idea." They left quickly, shutting the door hastily behind them, and walked a few paces away before pausing, neither willing to speak of what had just happened.

Finally, Billy shook his head and looked back down at the book. "Well. We've still got the rest of W and Y to go. Shall I walk you home?"

"Sure." Elijah couldn't quite bring himself to say no, and couldn't quite drag his mind away from frantic lips and hungry fingers as Billy continued with the W's, reading on toward inevitability.

-

He'd made a speech and practiced it in front of the mirror for two hours. Look, we've all had fun with your little game, and I don't mind being the punch line of a joke. It was great, but it's over, do you understand? There will be no Z's. This is done because I'm sick of you jerking me around. This has gone too far.

And then he would take the phone book away and stomp off. Billy wouldn't be expecting him that early, and he wouldn't be given the chance to even open those deadly lips when Elijah began the speech. It was infallible. He was damn proud of it.

However, when he started to pound on the door, Billy pulled it open almost immediately, causing that deadly moment of hesitation.

"Zine Productions. Thirty-four forty-nine Huntsville Place," he said before the door was even open all the way.

Nothing is idiot-proof to a truly talented idiot, Elijah thought as Billy's lips twisted into a fretful half-smile.

"Can you believe it? Nearly three dozen Smiths, but only one Z in the whole phone book?" He giggled nervously.

Elijah froze in horror.

"I looked ahead on the second day," Billy admitted, looking at Elijah's shoes. "I was pretty excited when I saw that. I sort of planned this on that day. Good joke, you know? Bring you over, and there's just one name, and. Well, you see. It's rather funny." But Billy wasn't laughing, nor was he looking Elijah in the face.

"That's, um. That's the entire phone book," Elijah stated stupidly.

"I read the whole phone book," Billy agreed, with a nervous giggle.

There was a painful, mortified silence, broken only when Billy cracked the knuckle on his right index finger. Then there was another painful, mortified silence.

Finally, Billy burst out into forced laughter, and met Elijah's eyes nervously. "Well," he said. "I've had my fun. It's been good jerking you around. You're free to go home."

"Yes." A giggle bubbled over his lips, almost sorrowful. "This has been quite the experience. Should we try it again sometime?"

"Hah, read another phonebook? Next time you have to do it!" Billy looked down again. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Like I said, you're free."

Elijah turned sharply. "See you."

"Bye."

"Bye." Elijah took a step away.

He turned around, took a step forward, and kissed Billy smack on his beautiful lips.

Billy's hands flailed in shock, and Elijah's heart nearly stopped. Oh, God, now he'd really –

Billy's hands came to rest on his waist, and pulled him closer, into his lips, his mouth, and it was better than any dream.

Billy broke away to take a step backward, pulling Elijah into his room, and whispered, "Oh, God, I hoped you were serious."

"I hoped so, too."

Billy laughed softly, reaching for him. "Elijah."

A million names had passed Billy’s lips, and that had been the only one he’d ever needed. Elijah stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, desperately hoping that Billy was loud in bed.