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awritinglilypeaTitle: Newspaper Clippings
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Orlijah eventually, Viggo/Bean
Rating: R
Complete: Only in my head.
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, romance.
Chapter Summary: Orlando feels the need to take care of Elijah, and he gets a little help along the way. But what happens when Elijah is more reluctant?
Author's Note: Two in one week! I haven't done that in a while, but I feel a driving force to finish this fic more than I've had in a while. Hopefully that will continue for the next 6 chapters and perhaps an epilogue :)
Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparkly_shiny who will tell you she's not my angel or anyone's but she is.
Previous chapters
Orlando was worried, more worried than he had been in a long time about anything actually. Even when Elijah was at his worst, he would answer the phone, because he considered it rude not to.
“You alright?” Sean asked him, cradling a cup of tea in his hands.
“I’ve got to go home,” Orlando told him, grabbing his jacket. “I’m sorry and thank you,” he laid a smacking kiss on Beanie’s cheek.
“What’s going on Orli?” Sean followed him to the door, brows furrowed in concern as he did so.
“Elijah isn’t answering the phone,” Orlando called before he darted out of the door and ran to the stairwell, not even bothering with the elevator.
He made it to the apartment in record time and opened the door, “Elijah?” he called.
His worry grew as there was no answer and he toed off his shoes, even the sound of his socked feet against the floor seeming loud as he stepped from carpet to hardwood.
“‘Lij?” There was no answer again and he sighed softly, figuring Elijah had gone out somewhere and tried not to worry.
He turned to the stairs for his room when he heard a noise in the bathroom and hurried that way. Pushing open the door, he gasped softly, seeing Elijah lying on the floor.
“Elijah,” he could barely get the name out and hurried over to his roommate, his friend, kneeling next to him on the floor.
He was almost scared to reach for him, thinking of the last time he’d found someone like this, the last time he’d been in this same situation, and terror flooded him further.
“Oh god,” he muttered, barely registering that Elijah’s skin felt warm. “Elijah, open your eyes please,” he pleaded.
Elijah’s eyes rolled open in that instant and Orlando felt relief flood him despite his mounting concern. An almost frenzied worry was beginning to build within him.
“What?” Elijah asked him and Orlando could see the disoriented state he was in almost immediately.
He glanced around the room then looked at Elijah again, “Oh God, Elijah,” he murmured, “your hands.”
They were the worst Orlando had seen. The skin was ripped away in spots and the wounds were leaking with blood and pus.
He looked back into Elijah’s eyes, knowing he must look stunned, and registered the feverish look of him. “You’re sick.”
“‘M not,” Elijah mumbled shaking his head as vehemently as he seemed able to. “They’re fine.”
“No, they’re not,” Orlando leaned over him and stroked his hair, his eyes filled to the brim with tears as he tried to suck in a deep breath, able to feel the heat of a fever building in Elijah. “I’ll get help I promise,” he swore with a ferocity that surprised him. “God, you are burning up, this is all my fault. I’ll call Vig and Bean, you’ll be okay I promise.”
Elijah closed his eyes and Orlando couldn’t help but hold him close, pulling the younger man up against his chest even as he tried to get his cell phone out of his pocket.
He dialed Viggo and Sean first; listening to the phone ring he became increasingly frantic with each unanswered tone.
“Orlando?” Sean sounded worried from the minute he picked up the phone.
“I need you both here,” Orlando told him, his words emerging rushed.
“What’s happened?” Sean asked him, already in the process of grabbing his coat and putting it on, signaling to Viggo they needed to go.
“Elijah, I found him on the bathroom floor-”
“Oh god, he didn’t...” Sean’s words trailed off and he seemed stunned at the very thought of someone as strong as Elijah doing what he was thinking of.
“No, but he’s very sick, I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital, but he needs help, I need help,” Orlando sounded helpless even to his own ears. “He might need a hospital just for the damage to his hands but...he hates them.”
“We’ll be right there, get him into bed,” Sean instructed.
“Okay, thank you Beanie,” Orlando hung up the phone and managed to lift Elijah, stumbling slightly as he climbed to his feet and walked into Elijah’s room, lying him down on his bed gently.
He hurried out of the bedroom after a moment to grab the first aid kit and filled one of their larger bowls with water, unsure if he would be able to do this. The first time he’d helped Elijah with his hands there’d been an almost clinical way of looking at him but this was so much different now.
He was almost entirely certain he was in love with him now.
Orlando couldn’t remember the last time his hands had shaken so much as he carefully washed, disinfected and then applied ointments to Elijah’s hands before wrapping them carefully.
It was painstaking and his breathing seemed to hitch in his throat every few minutes.
“I’ll make this up to you somehow,” Orlando murmured, even though Elijah was in a deep sleep. He sighed and bowed his head, hope that Viggo and Sean would arrive soon, filling him as he did so.
It wasn’t long before they showed up, using the key Elijah had given them for emergency situations, and found him sitting next to the bed on the floor, his fingers curled loosely around Elijah’s left hand as he rested his head against the side of the bed.
“What happened?” Viggo asked, stepping forward slowly. He approached the bed and touched Elijah’s cheek with the back of his hand after setting down a small plastic bag. “He is very warm,” he murmured in worried tones.
Orlando nodded, “You have to help him.”
Viggo looked down at him and Orlando bowed his head, unable to meet his gaze. “We’ll try. Now what happened?” he asked as Sean set about getting a cold cloth for Elijah’s forehead.
“I came home, after he didn’t answer and he was just lying on the bathroom floor, he told me his hands were fine and they aren’t, although they aren’t as bad as I thought they were and he told me he wasn’t sick but he was burning up just like now,” Orlando murmured into the palm of his hand, resting his head again.
Viggo reached for the bag and pulled out a brand new thermometer. He went into the bathroom to wash it first as Sean came out and pressed the cool cloth gently against Elijah’s forehead.
“I’m never joking about your papa wolf instincts again,” Orlando told Sean, reaching for his hand and holding it gently.
Sean smiled, “There's a good lad,” he teased lightly, although his eyes were filled with seriousness. “We’ll try to get his fever down and then call the doctor.”
Orlando nodded his head. “Okay,” he turned to watch Elijah sleep, unable to resist doing so.
Viggo hurried into the room and carefully inserted the thermometer into Elijah’s ear, having figured it would be the easiest way to do things.
Elijah’s eyes opened sluggishly and he groaned, trying to squirm away from the thermometer, “Stop I’m fine,” he muttered.
“No,” Sean said firmly, catching Elijah’s eye. “We’re going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Alright?”
Elijah blinked for a moment, holding Sean’s gaze before he nodded and closed them again. “I’m not sick though.”
“Sure you’re not, you just have a temperature of...” Viggo looked at the small screen when the thermometer beeps. “101, for no reason.”
“Yep,” Elijah muttered, turning to roll onto his side. “Go away.”
“Uh huh, I don’t think so,” Viggo rolled him back over. “I need you to take some Tylenol to bring down your fever, and then in two hours if it isn’t down we’re calling the doctor okay?” he asked him.
“House call?” Elijah sounded curious. He’d not known Doctors still did that.
“Yes, a house call, and a very good friend of Sean and I’s,” Viggo told him. “So will you take the Tylenol and stay put?” he questioned.
Elijah shook his head. “No.”
Sean growled in frustration, and it was clear despite his respect and the affection he felt for the young former actor, he couldn’t help but want to throttle him at times and it was one of those times. “Why not?”
“I gotta pack,” Elijah mumbled, burrowing down into the blankets. He didn’t even wince when he gripped them, a surefire sign that he was out of it.
Orlando felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. “You’re not leaving.”
Elijah looked at him startled, “Why shouldn’t I?” His voice was slightly hoarse, obviously from a sore throat.
Orlando leaned against the side of the bed. “Because we’re room mates, because you’re my friend and I’ve been a wretched twat.”
Elijah seemed to consider his words and nodded his head, “You have.”
Unable to help smiling, Orlando nodded as well, “But I would like the chance to make it up to you. I have so many things I need to tell you, I need to explain why I’ve been acting so...so-”
“Fucking stupid?” Elijah supplied, his blue eyes a little hazy as they focused on Orlando’s face.
“Yes,” Orlando responded, licking his bottom lip. He hoped against hope that Elijah would give him the chance to explain. He needed to explain, even if it meant humiliating himself in the process.
Even if it meant discussing Stuart.
He could do it, if only to get Elijah to listen to him.
“One week,” Elijah told him before he shifted around, getting comfortable. He took the Tylenol offered to him by Viggo and drinking some of the juice before he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Orlando grinned to himself, leaning into the half embrace Viggo offered him as he joined him on the floor, Sean following soon after, complaining about the ache in his knees.
“Old man,” Orlando couldn’t help but tease, and laughed when all Sean did was plant a smacking kiss on his cheek.
He had one week to persuade Elijah not to leave the home they’d built in the small apartment.
There was no doubt about it.
Elijah was not leaving him, even if he had to force him to listen after this.
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Orlijah eventually, Viggo/Bean
Rating: R
Complete: Only in my head.
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, romance.
Chapter Summary: Orlando feels the need to take care of Elijah, and he gets a little help along the way. But what happens when Elijah is more reluctant?
Author's Note: Two in one week! I haven't done that in a while, but I feel a driving force to finish this fic more than I've had in a while. Hopefully that will continue for the next 6 chapters and perhaps an epilogue :)
Thank you to
sparkly_shiny who will tell you she's not my angel or anyone's but she is. Previous chapters
Orlando was worried, more worried than he had been in a long time about anything actually. Even when Elijah was at his worst, he would answer the phone, because he considered it rude not to.
“You alright?” Sean asked him, cradling a cup of tea in his hands.
“I’ve got to go home,” Orlando told him, grabbing his jacket. “I’m sorry and thank you,” he laid a smacking kiss on Beanie’s cheek.
“What’s going on Orli?” Sean followed him to the door, brows furrowed in concern as he did so.
“Elijah isn’t answering the phone,” Orlando called before he darted out of the door and ran to the stairwell, not even bothering with the elevator.
He made it to the apartment in record time and opened the door, “Elijah?” he called.
His worry grew as there was no answer and he toed off his shoes, even the sound of his socked feet against the floor seeming loud as he stepped from carpet to hardwood.
“‘Lij?” There was no answer again and he sighed softly, figuring Elijah had gone out somewhere and tried not to worry.
He turned to the stairs for his room when he heard a noise in the bathroom and hurried that way. Pushing open the door, he gasped softly, seeing Elijah lying on the floor.
“Elijah,” he could barely get the name out and hurried over to his roommate, his friend, kneeling next to him on the floor.
He was almost scared to reach for him, thinking of the last time he’d found someone like this, the last time he’d been in this same situation, and terror flooded him further.
“Oh god,” he muttered, barely registering that Elijah’s skin felt warm. “Elijah, open your eyes please,” he pleaded.
Elijah’s eyes rolled open in that instant and Orlando felt relief flood him despite his mounting concern. An almost frenzied worry was beginning to build within him.
“What?” Elijah asked him and Orlando could see the disoriented state he was in almost immediately.
He glanced around the room then looked at Elijah again, “Oh God, Elijah,” he murmured, “your hands.”
They were the worst Orlando had seen. The skin was ripped away in spots and the wounds were leaking with blood and pus.
He looked back into Elijah’s eyes, knowing he must look stunned, and registered the feverish look of him. “You’re sick.”
“‘M not,” Elijah mumbled shaking his head as vehemently as he seemed able to. “They’re fine.”
“No, they’re not,” Orlando leaned over him and stroked his hair, his eyes filled to the brim with tears as he tried to suck in a deep breath, able to feel the heat of a fever building in Elijah. “I’ll get help I promise,” he swore with a ferocity that surprised him. “God, you are burning up, this is all my fault. I’ll call Vig and Bean, you’ll be okay I promise.”
Elijah closed his eyes and Orlando couldn’t help but hold him close, pulling the younger man up against his chest even as he tried to get his cell phone out of his pocket.
He dialed Viggo and Sean first; listening to the phone ring he became increasingly frantic with each unanswered tone.
“Orlando?” Sean sounded worried from the minute he picked up the phone.
“I need you both here,” Orlando told him, his words emerging rushed.
“What’s happened?” Sean asked him, already in the process of grabbing his coat and putting it on, signaling to Viggo they needed to go.
“Elijah, I found him on the bathroom floor-”
“Oh god, he didn’t...” Sean’s words trailed off and he seemed stunned at the very thought of someone as strong as Elijah doing what he was thinking of.
“No, but he’s very sick, I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital, but he needs help, I need help,” Orlando sounded helpless even to his own ears. “He might need a hospital just for the damage to his hands but...he hates them.”
“We’ll be right there, get him into bed,” Sean instructed.
“Okay, thank you Beanie,” Orlando hung up the phone and managed to lift Elijah, stumbling slightly as he climbed to his feet and walked into Elijah’s room, lying him down on his bed gently.
He hurried out of the bedroom after a moment to grab the first aid kit and filled one of their larger bowls with water, unsure if he would be able to do this. The first time he’d helped Elijah with his hands there’d been an almost clinical way of looking at him but this was so much different now.
He was almost entirely certain he was in love with him now.
Orlando couldn’t remember the last time his hands had shaken so much as he carefully washed, disinfected and then applied ointments to Elijah’s hands before wrapping them carefully.
It was painstaking and his breathing seemed to hitch in his throat every few minutes.
“I’ll make this up to you somehow,” Orlando murmured, even though Elijah was in a deep sleep. He sighed and bowed his head, hope that Viggo and Sean would arrive soon, filling him as he did so.
It wasn’t long before they showed up, using the key Elijah had given them for emergency situations, and found him sitting next to the bed on the floor, his fingers curled loosely around Elijah’s left hand as he rested his head against the side of the bed.
“What happened?” Viggo asked, stepping forward slowly. He approached the bed and touched Elijah’s cheek with the back of his hand after setting down a small plastic bag. “He is very warm,” he murmured in worried tones.
Orlando nodded, “You have to help him.”
Viggo looked down at him and Orlando bowed his head, unable to meet his gaze. “We’ll try. Now what happened?” he asked as Sean set about getting a cold cloth for Elijah’s forehead.
“I came home, after he didn’t answer and he was just lying on the bathroom floor, he told me his hands were fine and they aren’t, although they aren’t as bad as I thought they were and he told me he wasn’t sick but he was burning up just like now,” Orlando murmured into the palm of his hand, resting his head again.
Viggo reached for the bag and pulled out a brand new thermometer. He went into the bathroom to wash it first as Sean came out and pressed the cool cloth gently against Elijah’s forehead.
“I’m never joking about your papa wolf instincts again,” Orlando told Sean, reaching for his hand and holding it gently.
Sean smiled, “There's a good lad,” he teased lightly, although his eyes were filled with seriousness. “We’ll try to get his fever down and then call the doctor.”
Orlando nodded his head. “Okay,” he turned to watch Elijah sleep, unable to resist doing so.
Viggo hurried into the room and carefully inserted the thermometer into Elijah’s ear, having figured it would be the easiest way to do things.
Elijah’s eyes opened sluggishly and he groaned, trying to squirm away from the thermometer, “Stop I’m fine,” he muttered.
“No,” Sean said firmly, catching Elijah’s eye. “We’re going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Alright?”
Elijah blinked for a moment, holding Sean’s gaze before he nodded and closed them again. “I’m not sick though.”
“Sure you’re not, you just have a temperature of...” Viggo looked at the small screen when the thermometer beeps. “101, for no reason.”
“Yep,” Elijah muttered, turning to roll onto his side. “Go away.”
“Uh huh, I don’t think so,” Viggo rolled him back over. “I need you to take some Tylenol to bring down your fever, and then in two hours if it isn’t down we’re calling the doctor okay?” he asked him.
“House call?” Elijah sounded curious. He’d not known Doctors still did that.
“Yes, a house call, and a very good friend of Sean and I’s,” Viggo told him. “So will you take the Tylenol and stay put?” he questioned.
Elijah shook his head. “No.”
Sean growled in frustration, and it was clear despite his respect and the affection he felt for the young former actor, he couldn’t help but want to throttle him at times and it was one of those times. “Why not?”
“I gotta pack,” Elijah mumbled, burrowing down into the blankets. He didn’t even wince when he gripped them, a surefire sign that he was out of it.
Orlando felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. “You’re not leaving.”
Elijah looked at him startled, “Why shouldn’t I?” His voice was slightly hoarse, obviously from a sore throat.
Orlando leaned against the side of the bed. “Because we’re room mates, because you’re my friend and I’ve been a wretched twat.”
Elijah seemed to consider his words and nodded his head, “You have.”
Unable to help smiling, Orlando nodded as well, “But I would like the chance to make it up to you. I have so many things I need to tell you, I need to explain why I’ve been acting so...so-”
“Fucking stupid?” Elijah supplied, his blue eyes a little hazy as they focused on Orlando’s face.
“Yes,” Orlando responded, licking his bottom lip. He hoped against hope that Elijah would give him the chance to explain. He needed to explain, even if it meant humiliating himself in the process.
Even if it meant discussing Stuart.
He could do it, if only to get Elijah to listen to him.
“One week,” Elijah told him before he shifted around, getting comfortable. He took the Tylenol offered to him by Viggo and drinking some of the juice before he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Orlando grinned to himself, leaning into the half embrace Viggo offered him as he joined him on the floor, Sean following soon after, complaining about the ache in his knees.
“Old man,” Orlando couldn’t help but tease, and laughed when all Sean did was plant a smacking kiss on his cheek.
He had one week to persuade Elijah not to leave the home they’d built in the small apartment.
There was no doubt about it.
Elijah was not leaving him, even if he had to force him to listen after this.
