Posted: January 2004
Title: Billy's Best Break
Author: Lemur
Type: RPS
Characters: Orlando/Billy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Shameless harvesting from Return of the King. (Pippin stole the show!) And this is a short chapter that is doing some important bridging to what, in my head, is rapidly becoming the PWP portion of the Billy's Best series…
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I don't know these people; I just like to put words in their mouths and minds.
Betas: My thanks to Robyn, my British beta Roska, and as always, Kira, my invaluable Scottish beta. All mistakes and vernacular inaccuracies are now my own.
Author's Notes: I have no idea of the actual LotR filming schedule, so yeah, I'm playing fast and loose with the concepts of first and second unit filming. And I highly doubt anything like the Orc trailer existed, but dammit, it should have, if only for these purposes. (Also, I'm starting this at a restaurant in an airport where they're evidently playing all of Mariah Carey's greatest hits in a row…Are they allowed to preemptively punish slashers like this? *grin*)
Summary: Billy has fifteen minutes…and a craving.

*****

No Devils.

No Angels.

No questions or doubts.

All Billy had was a fifteen-minute break and a reasonably good idea of where he might find Orlando.

He walked casually toward the catering tent, hearing the laughter of a dozen or so Orcs, a few Rohirrim, and one Elf. Orlando's good-natured, eager-to-please near-giggles spiked above the lower guffaws of the Orcs, which were muffled and muted through layers of prosthetics and fake teeth.

As he walked ever nearer, Billy raised an eyebrow, and then lowered it. Smirked, then grinned, frowned, then waggled his eyebrows; trying to decide how best to silently convey his message in a way that only Orlando would understand. He came up with a few choice hand gestures, but they were all a bit too obvious and a few were downright obscene, so those were discarded. He didn't fancy a small army of Orcs knowing what he was up to.

In fact, he nearly discarded the whole plan. Barely five feet from the tent, he stopped cold in his tracks, suddenly realizing that this was a new level of lunacy. He had only recently decided it was perfectly fine for him and Orlando to snog and pet and do other various activities at night…alone…away from the set. But now the sun was up, he was dressed as Pippin, and it was very definitely right in the middle of the workday.

Wind blew past him, pushing him forward, and his hobbit undershirt billowed around him, cold biting right through the thin fabric. The sudden burst of frigid air strengthened his resolve; what he had in mind would definitely help warm him up. And besides, he felt a craving that only one person could satisfy. He took another step forward, moving toward the tent.

It had been in his mind all morning as the carrot dangling before him: if he just got through this difficult scene, then he could track down Orlando and have a quick grope anywhere they could manage it. It was the practical, work-place application of all their strange midnight trysts and Billy fancied himself a very practical hobbit.

Granted, the carrot had originally been dangling in the wee hours of night after filming finished for the day; if he got through the day and was content with his performance, then his reward would be a bit of a rub with Orlando; but he grew impatient. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his first scene of the day was really very challenging and so, by his estimation, he'd already earned his carrot. Practically, anyway.

He approached the tent's open flap of a door and saw the rows of rickety tables stretched across the shadowy interior. The walls shuddered and undulated in the wind and countless Orc-feet had trampled the grass covering the ground. He glanced down at his own hobbit-feet as he entered and carefully dodged a small flower that had managed to survive the stampede. He liked to think he had a step lighter than an Orc's.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim. At first he saw only large, hulking shadows, and the voices reverberated off the canvas walls almost painfully loud. Billy was seized with a sudden panic; he was too obvious! He was a hobbit walking into an Orc encampment! Surely, they would wonder why he was there; figure out that it had something to do with the Elf.

In a desperate attempt to look like he belonged, he blindly grabbed a bagel off the catering table and laughed heartily as if he had a clue what was going on. All the while, he scanned the room for a blond wig.

Orlando sat at a table at the far side of the tent, Lorien cloak about his shoulders and slouching in a most un-Elf-like manner. When Billy caught his eyes, Orlando's back straightened and his face fell serious, covert. For his part, Billy felt as though he were staring back at Orlando with the stunned expression of a small rodent seeing a cat for the first time. Well done, he thought sarcastically; we're very stealthy and not at all obvious. Bravo.

The illicit bagel clutched tightly in his hand, he turned from the Orcs and walked out. He moved in slow motion along the edge of the tent until a tall shadow stretched out in front of him and a body blocked the wind blowing against his back. "Something up?" Orlando said lowly, his words rather fuzzy around the edges since he was trying to speak without opening his mouth, but his attempt at innuendo came through sharp and clear.

Billy made a great show of splitting the bagel in two and pretending to share it with Orlando. At that exact moment, it didn't occur to him that splitting a bagel while pretending not to speak looked more suspicious than either action alone. And damn it, it was a raisin bagel. Fucking useless. "Makeup trailer in two minutes?"

Orlando didn't immediately reply and his shadow was inscrutable. For one fleeting moment, Billy worried he'd misunderstood the parameters of their little arrangement, until, "Makeup trailer has too many people. Orc trailer?"

Good thought; people were always going in and out of the makeup trailer. Billy nodded to the dark silhouette stretched in front of him. "Two minutes."

And then, simultaneously and not at all subtly, they both veered in opposite directions as if they were repellent magnets. Billy just shook his head. If he and Orlando planned to continue to do this sort of stuff, then they were definitely going to have to check out some books on successful espionage. At this rate, they'd be lucky if the entire Fellowship didn't show up at the Orc trailer to meet them, complete with Bill the Pony.

Tearing the raisin bagel into pieces and tossing it to a small flock of birds, Billy staked out the Orc trailer. When no one was watching, he darted up the short stairs of the metal rendezvous and closed the door behind him.

Inside, it was dark and quiet. The wind howled against the metal shell, whistling with ghost-like wails around the corners. Not the most romantic atmosphere, Billy decided, wrinkling his nose at the scent of prosthetics and sweat, but the unpleasantness did make it even less likely they'd be discovered. People didn't just hang out in the Orc trailer.

Rows and rows of Orc suits filled the space from one end to the other, hanging from clothing racks, swaying as he pushed them aside to walk deeper inside. He had just gotten to the far end when he heard the door open with a clank and then shut.

"Bill?" came Orlando's hushed call.

"I'm back here."

The trailer creaked and Orc bodies stirred as Orlando made his way through the darkness. Billy heard an ungraceful shuffle and a muffled "Fuck!" and then, moments later, Orlando limped into the clearing at the end of the trailer. "Stubbed my bloody toe on an Orc head."

"How romantic."

"Yeah, well. Can't see for shit in these contacts." Orlando leaned against the last full Orc rack, not casually, but spring-loaded, waiting for Billy to say the word. His falsely blue eyes glimmered a bit in the filtered sunlight.

"So," Billy began, "I've spent all morning writhing around on the ground in my PJs with a bowling ball they've promised me is going to be a ‘really cool' Palantir and in ten minutes, I have to cry on cue."

"Right." Orlando nodded curtly. "Allow me, then." He slipped close, showing all of the grace he had suspended during his walk through the trailer, and in an instant, his body pressed warm and tight against Billy's. Billy felt lips lock on his and he knew Orlando had understood precisely what he was getting at: Billy believed the Palantir would, indeed, end up to be "really cool", but that didn't stop him from feeling like a complete fecking idiot pretending to be pained by a bowling ball. And there are few things worse for a heavy emotional scene than going into it feeling like an idiot.

The metal walls around them shuddered and the wind howled, high and distant. Orlando's fingers threaded through Pippin's curls and his tongue met Billy's wetly between their mouths, immediately hot and passionate, wasting no time with gradual kiss progression. Billy felt grateful; his knees felt weak. This was all worth the threat of humiliation and a stale raisin bagel.

Billy gripped Orlando's shoulders and stood on his toes to get the best angle at his mouth, but just as he did so, they both stumbled backward and Billy found himself crushed not unpleasantly between the wall and Orlando. The wall dented beneath the press of Billy's arse, then bounced back with a metallic pop. He didn't know if Orlando had pushed him or if the force of the kiss had just thrown them there, but judging by the dizzy spiral forming in his mind, he got the impression that he didn't mind either way.

His hands rested on Orlando's shoulders, but his mobility was greatly decreased. He could not stand on his toes, could not wrap his arms around Orlando; he could only stand there, his head tilted up, and be *snogged*.

It went against the grain and his nature to be so passive, and an unfamiliar discomfort crept along the tops of his shoulders. He shouldn't just be standing there and taking it. He should be pushing Orlando back, shoving him against the wall, doing that little fluttery thing with his tongue to *him*.

But it felt so bloody good.

Writhing around all morning took it out of a bloke and so, as much as his sense of pride demanded he attempt to be at least an equal participant in every situation, Billy found himself enjoying being earnestly and soundly snogged. And enthusiastically snogged Orlando back.

Orlando made a pleased humming noise as if he'd just gotten his mouth around a piece of candy. "You have great lips," he whispered, then punctuated the compliment by sliding his tongue along the upward curve of Billy's top lip.

Billy cursed himself for the blush he felt filling his cheeks. "Thanks." His voice came out far too breathy and husky for his taste. He had half a mind to just raise his heel and complete the girlish picture out of some sense of self-deprecating whimsy.

But if he could have shrugged, he would have: his cheeks could flush and his shoulders creep as much as they wanted because he was done questioning this. His mind felt clearer, his body tingly and more relaxed. This felt good, and that was the end of the discussion.

He blissfully kissed Orlando back, eagerly moving his mouth against those dexterous lips, savoring the slide of tongue and teeth. He shifted his feet apart to allow Orlando's thigh to slide between his legs, daring to risk that he might just end up returning to set far too turned-on to think, let alone act. And in a way, it felt nice to be dominated. It let him just relax and enjoy the snog. Whenever he kissed lasses, in the back of his mind, he always worried that he was pressing too hard, pushing too far, but right now, he could let all that worry rest on Orlando and clear his thoughts completely for snogging. Lasses really did have it better sometimes.

The locks of the Legolas wig fanned softly against his hand on Orlando's shoulder and Billy spun a few strands between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the flaxen feel; it was almost like kissing a lass in that respect. He followed the smooth flow of hair down the shoulder, neither surprised nor disappointed by the flat, hard chest against his palm.

But the thundering pulse beating beneath his thumb did surprise him.

"What?" Orlando asked, likely confused by the abrupt pause in Billy's lips, and now Billy wondered if that was an anxious falter he heard in his voice.

"Oooh." Billy rubbed at the smooth fabric of Legolas's jerkin, stalling. "This is nice." Not a lie, at least, he thought.

"It is, isn't it?" Orlando's fingers touched lightly over the coiled locks of the Pippin wig. "And I'm liking the curls."

"Aye, just missing your own, I bet." He smirked and Orlando smiled back momentarily before leaning in to kiss him again.

Billy melted into the kiss as always, but he couldn't keep his fingers from straying as casually as possible over the rapid thump of Orlando's heart. As great as the kiss was, as enlivening, Billy's own heart wasn't beating nearly so fast. And slowly, far too slowly, and it probably wouldn't have been so slowly had he not had Orlando's tongue in his mouth to distract him, Billy understood what it must mean.

Orlando was just as nervous as he was.

He'd gotten it in his head that Orlando was comfortable with this and had been from the start. Orlando hadn't worried, or stewed, or faced the Devil. He'd just been waiting for Billy to catch up and play along. But the drum roll cadence of his heart proved every assumption wrong. Orlando was kissing him and certainly wanted to be, but that didn't mean the whole situation didn't make him every bit as anxious as it made Billy.

Orlando had his own Devil.

Billy couldn't stop the smile from reaching his lips.

"What?" Orlando smiled back at him, though he clearly had no idea why they were smiling.

"Nothing, just…"

"Just what?"

"This probably looks a bit pervy."

"What does?"

"Legolas and Pippin having a messy snog. Surrounded by Orcs."

Orlando snorted a laugh. "That would be a shite battle tactic."

"Aye, well, it could have its merits," Billy said, pushing Orlando far enough away to slide his arms around his waist and pull him all the closer. He even let his hands slide low; let his fingers just touch the beginning curve of firm arse. Orlando's smile wavered and one eyebrow quirked up suspiciously, but he didn't protest. Equal ground, Billy thought; and it was a heady notion. "It would confuse the fuck out of the Orcs."

"It would," Orlando replied distractedly, his blue-covered eyes focused lustfully on Billy's mouth, his own lips parted and ready. "But you're too tall for a hobbit."

"Aye, well…" Billy grinned, raising his head and moving achingly slowly toward Orlando's waiting mouth and the inviting tongue glimmering wetly behind white teeth. "I could get on my knees."

The moment the words left his lips, the implication, the innuendo and the mental picture of if he were to do such a thing stabbed into his mind, and his own heartbeat began a drum roll.

Orlando laughed once, breathily. "You could, but…" His voice faded away, and Billy knew it was because a witty comeback had failed to come to him. He wasn't feeling terribly witty himself.

Billy stared at Orlando, at the bright blue of his eyes, and realized with a pang that, months ago, they could have laughed this off. But they couldn't laugh now because it was far too real a possibility. There was nothing they couldn't do with one another.

The trailer door opened with a clank.

"Shite." Billy shoved Orlando away from him and realized, as he hit the wall with a loud thump and crumpled to the floor, that Orlando had shoved him away as well, with equal force. But Orlando had fared much worse: Billy looked up to see him sprawled inelegantly beneath a row of Orc suits with just his dainty Elf-boots protruding from between the dangling prosthetic legs.

"Is someone in there?" Billy recognized the voice of Dave, one of the many Orc prop-masters, and an absolute jewel of a man on a good day. A beast of a man on a bad day.

A second later, Orlando burst out laughing, either from pent-up nerves or from the hard-earned knowledge that laughing at one's own inevitable humiliation was the best way to lessen it. Dave made his way back to them and saw Orlando lying on a pile of Orc bodies, flailing in a way that reminded Billy of his grandmother's overfed dachshund trying to turn over.

"Damn it, boys!" he shouted. Bad day. "I told you, no fooling around in the trailers!"

Orlando hurriedly and clumsily extracted himself from the Orcs and stood, still snickering lightly, nervously, trying to smooth the wig on his head. Dave began inspecting the suits that had broken Orlando's fall. "If you want to wrestle around, take it outside!" he shouted.

Billy exchanged an amused, relieved glance with Orlando. "Yes, sir," they said in unison, and slipped discreetly out of the trailer.

No one saw them emerge together and they split off as soon as they reached the light of day. As he wandered back toward the set, a strange elation seemed to fill Billy's whole body. Orlando was as freaked out as he was - he was just better at hiding it, evidently. Billy found the thought startlingly intoxicating. He couldn't understand why he felt so relieved by something he hadn't even known bothered him, but he simply put it on his ever-growing list of questions he would never ask. He felt cool, very cool, and couldn't wait to cry on cue.

End of discussion.

"Let me have a look at you." His makeup artist knelt beside him as he lounged on the ground, ready for his scene. She scrutinized his face a moment, and then pulled a small jar out of her kit. "Your lips are messed up. Have you been sneaking treats again?"

Billy smiled impishly. "Just a bagel."

As she reapplied his lip rouge with the tip of her finger, Billy lifted his eyes and found Orlando standing across the room – with his makeup lass's finger spreading gloss across his lips. Orlando smiled and then quickly apologized when the lass chided him. Billy laughed at him and earned his own chiding.

Fully made up and in position, Billy sat back and waited for action, his mind clear, calm and completely ready to play Pippin. Pippin's lines ran through his head, Pippin's fears and worries and curiosities, Pippin's life story. But deep in his thoughts, far behind a Took's innocence and naiveté, Billy was making plans that would make even an adventurous Baggins blush.

*****

THE END

Go to the next story in the series: Billy's Best Pull

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