Chapter Text
The next morning, the questions and jokes started. It started in Feet, "So, you two had your Dirty Weekend, eh?" said a particularly forward guy from Weta.
Elijah blinked, still half-awake and not expecting the question, but Billy was prepared. "Oh yeah, it was great. I had to pay the dancing girls extra, because they didn't want to leave 'Lijah, but I finally got them all back on the coach."
"Dancing girls?"
"Mm. Exotic dancers. I could only afford about 20 of them, what with hiring the coach and the security guards, but the Cirque de Soleil gymnasts let me pay them in booze, so they rounded out the group nicely." He paused reflectively, "Amazing, really, what you can do if you're that flexible."
"You are so full of shit!"
The questions continued in Wigs. "Elijah, what really happened?"
Elijah just shook his head mournfully, "I don’t know how we'll fix the rips in the sheets. I'll lose the security deposit for sure."
"Don't bother about the sheets, you can afford new ones," Billy said. "It's the carpets that I'd worry about. Vaseline looks lovely under the black lights, but it's hell to get off. I spent hours in the shower last night and I still don't think I got it all out of my hair."
"Oh, is that what it was?" the woman who'd glued on his wig said, playing along. "No wonder your hair was so shiny." And it went from there.
If Peter had asked what happened, Billy would have told the truth and because nothing said on set was ever really private, everyone would soon have learned exactly what happened. But Peter didn't ask and Billy didn't tell. Elijah had probably told Sean, maybe even his assistant, Julie, but none of them were talking either. So the crew remained entertained -- if not entirely content -- with the increasingly wild story.
Later that day, when Elijah said, "Yeah, but then Billy started washing my feet and it turned into a big gay orgy," Billy choked for a moment and couldn't think of a quick reply. Elijah's grin was positively wicked. And that was, largely, the end of that.
Later that week, though, at lunch, Elijah said, "Hey Sensei, I need some advice."
There was nobody else at their table just now. It was about as private as they could get while still in the catering tent. Billy put down his sandwich, cupped his chin in his palm, and prepared to listen.
Elijah didn't just launch into it, though. He took a moment, chewing on his thumbnail, keeping his eyes down. Billy waited.
"I've got a date for Saturday. With this woman from Queenstown. And. . ."
Advice? Billy remembered, vividly, why he'd decided he never wanted to be a father. This was embarrassing as hell. "Wear a condom."
"Well duh," Elijah replied, unimpressed.
"Not just for that. It'll keep you from being too quick off the mark so you can spend some time making her happy." Elijah remained unimpressed. "Same as before, just pay attention. You've got a lot of skin, she's got a lot of skin, enjoy it."
"No secret Jedi tricks?"
Billy laughed. "Don't point your lightsaber at someone unless you intend to use it."
Elijah rolled his eyes, and then Viggo came over, and the conversation turned as they gave him good-natured shit about the "our beloved hobbits" comment he'd written on a print.
Later, as they waited for some lights to be adjusted before the next take, Elijah said, low in his ear, "I'm not usually that fast, you know."
Billy shrugged. "You're young, don't worry about it."
Elijah looked pissed, but didn't reply.