monaboyd | Project Homer Chapter 2

Title: Project Homer, Chapter 2/?

Authors:

owl_at_the_moon
Rating: PG, R in later chapters
Summary: Some practical jokes demand revenge. But revenge may not always be a good idea.
Disclaimer: Originates solely from our perverted imaginations. Any passing resemblance to the truth will be utterly coincidental.
Feedback: Ohhhh yesssssss ... we love it. Thank you to all you lovely, lovely people who commented last time. *Mwuah* We were both chuffed to bits that you liked it :D

Author Notes: Gather round, people, and and hearken to my tale. Back in the dim and distant past, in the misty depths of the farther reaches of monaboyd, there was posted a post entitled 'Project Homer, Chapter 1/?'.
This is its sequel.
Sorry it took so long - I've been away on holiday in the heart of rural Shropshire. Staying not two miles from a place called Bagginswood, coincidentally. Very shire-like place, is Shropshire :)

So, in the not-unlikely event that you can't remember what Chapter 1 was about, it's here.

Many thanks to

rynalwyn for the beta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The campaign to scare the shit out of Billy began the next morning in Feet. Billy wasn't at his best in the mornings, which wasn't to say he was a grumpy bastard because Billy was nothing if not ineffably cheerful. It was just that he was always a little quieter, still sleepy, not quite on the ball. For that reason Dom found it surprisingly easy to watch him rather than Elijah, who was full of the joys of sunrise and the latest indie CD. Easy to watch Billy with his soft, green eyes which wandered aimlessly from the head of the make up girl, bent low over his feet, across the glue canisters and prosthetics out of the trailer window where the dawn was gathering momentum. The pale light of morning couldn't compete with the trailer lighting which was harsh and unforgiving and yet it forgave Billy. In Pippin get-up he looked so damn young and innocent, younger even than Elijah sometimes. Almost made Dom feel guilty until he remembered the embarrassment of explaining to the dowager duchess behind the chemist's counter just exactly what he needed the ointment for. He didn’t know what was worse, admitting to being stuck in an animatronic tree for two hours or the look on her face that suggested she didn’t believe a word and thought he’d got his bruises from an over enthusiastic girlfriend. Just the motivation he needed to keep thoughts of friendly revenge uppermost in his mind.

So, the staring tactic. Fix his attention on the nape of Billy's neck, the smooth curved line of it a graceful arc, as he bent to glance idly at the magazine in his lap. Billy's hair had been recently cropped, and lay smooth and bristly over the contours of his skull. Otter fur. Otter fur was the image that arose unbidden in Dom's mind - he wondered what it would be like to run his hands over that hair, to rub it up the wrong way and feel the short, soft hairs prickle against his fingers.

When would Billy notice he was being stared at? Wasn't there some kind of sixth sense that told you these things, some hangover from hunter-gatherer days that alerted you to predators? There were parallels - after all, in a sense Dom was stalking Billy. Dom exhaled a short silent snort of amusement.

Be afraid, Billy my boy, be very afraid.

Was it working now? Distracted, Billy had drawn a hand up to his neck as if rubbing at a tense muscle. Had he sensed Dom’s stare? His hand softened on the stubble, running across it once and then again as if testing its resistance. It rose up through the longer, fairer hairs that threaded themselves through his fingers, a brisk rubbing gesture and his hand fell once more to his lap.

Hmmm, wasn’t working so far. With vague notions of telepathy Dom willed Billy to notice his eyes burning against the back of his neck. I’m staring at your neck Billy, that’s right staring, can’t take my eyes off it. Feeling hot around the collar yet Billy? And wow it’s working. Just look at that ...

Tiny droplets of sweat clinging to the otter fur, like water droplets from a river, glistening against the darkening skin.

Don’t even know my own powers. Hyp(fucking)notic; that’s me. Could be a promising career, eh Billy? Oh Billeeeeeh I’ve got the biggest crush on you ever. Turn around and see, turn around and see me staring. If you don’t turn round Bills I’m gonna start staring at your arse.

Right, arse it is then.

Nicely framed between the seat and the back-rest of the chair, there it was. The Boyd posterior. Enclosed in homespun hobbit breeches - not exactly designed for their sex appeal. Dom couldn't imagine hobbit lasses being sent into paroxysms of lust-filled drooling at the sight of that baggy garment walking past their garden gate. But then Tolkien hadn't really been aiming for erotic and Wardrobe had obviously concurred.

Okaaayy ... need to make this leering convincing. Change of tactic. Get into the role, think sexxyyyy. Imagine Billy's arse in something tight. Like those jeans he'd tried on in Wellington yesterday. Skin tight they'd been - it had been quite a struggle to get the zip up (not surprising, since he'd picked up a pair that were a size too small by mistake). Billy had joked about wanting a bit more room for manoeuvre. Right, that was a mental image he could do more with, the denim fitting snugly over Billy's hips. When all was said and done a nice arse was a nice arse whether it was a woman's or a man's. And Billy's was exceptionally nice. Its peachy proportions had certainly impressed Miranda and Liv. It was currently occupying the number five spot on their list of Deadly Distractions whilst filming. He'd heard them giggling about it one day and was both flattered and bemused to find his ears occupying the number three spot.

Hey Bills, gonna waggle my sexy ears at yer. Few can resist the lure of The Ears. Forget all that crap about men with big feet, it's the ears that tell all. They're not just pretty either - the eyes may be the mirrors but the ears, well they're the coat hangers of the soul they are. Just wiggle that hot little arse of yours in my direction and l'll show you.

Success! The intensity of Dom's gaze had finally burned its way through Billy's somnolent distraction. A slightly puzzled, curious expression on his face, he glanced at Dom.

"Hmmn?"

Eyebrows raised quizzically, Billy 's unspoken question amounted to 'what was that about?'. Dom let his eyes wander lasciviously over Billy's body, tracking his outline from behind half-lowered lashes in a way that was positively flirtatious. A rosy flush crept up Billy's throat to suffuse his face. Elijah was cheerfully oblivious to all this, nodding his head in time to the music blasting through his earphones, earning exasperated glares from the make-up girl attempting to apply glue to feet that every so often would start tapping to the rhythm. Sean had noticed though, and his curiosity had been piqued. Dom could see him from the corner of his eye, peering curiously at them over the top of his newspaper.

Their little scene was abruptly cut short though by the arrival of the elf hastily ducking in the trailer.

"Man, that woman likes to crack her whip!" exclaimed Orli.

There was no need to explain who "that" woman was. Liv had had Orli successfully wrapped around her little finger since day one.

"She's asked me to invite you all to a barbie tomorrow afternoon."

Sean looked askance at Elijah, Elijah looked at Dom, Dom looked at Billy - it was a hobbit thing pure and simple.

"She's providing the booze" cajoled Orli.

"Great!"

"Can't wait."

"We'll be there."

And a hopeful "Does she need help setting it up? I happen to be trained in barbecue safety" from Sean.

Excellent, thought Dom, Phase One of Project Homer successfully initiated, on to Phase Two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phrase Project Homer had been coined by Orli when they'd fleshed out the details of their bet. Dom had started planning it like a military campaign and Orli had thought it needed a title just to formalise it. Wasn't it like that Trojan horse business? Only not.

"You're not making sense mate, exactly how much have you had to drink?"

"Am" insisted Orli. "It was the Greeks man, their whole right-on attitude to gays. Troy. Greeks. Homer. Yeah, Project Homer!"

So Project Homer it was christened. If the phase one of Project Homer was all about the watching then phase two was going to be all about the touching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The barbeque was well under way by now. Much beer had been consumed, along with quite a few steaks (too rare), sausages (nicely browned with just the right element of smokiness), marinaded swordfish steaks (Liv's marinade recipe proved very popular) and burgers (burned to frazzled lumps of charcoal). A couple of forlorn-looking sausages languished at the corner of the barbeque and the remnants of the salad wilted slowly in the warm sunlight as the guests sprawled, replete, around the deck. Dom had claimed the hammock for his own much to the annoyance of Elijah, who was having to make do with a fold-up fisherman's chair of Viggos's.

"It stinks of fish" he complained in mock Hollywood brat mode, wrinkling up his nose for added effect. "I'm Frodo, guys, I should at least have the deck chair."

Orli was looking incredibly smug as he sat down. He was the only person on the planet who could look elegant whilst grappling with a deck chair.

"No, no, no, Elwood - can't have those little hobbit legs dangling over the edge of the deckchair, far too uncomfortable" retorted Orli.

Elijah stuck his tongue out in response.

"So ..." Orli returned to the subject of his latest obsession, "which of you guys are going to come with me and do this bungee jump then?"

"You realise that it probably violates our contract to do something that qualifies as a dangerous sport?" Viggo languidly pointed out. "Peter would not be a happy bunny."

"Peter doesn't have to know about it. Dom, you're up for it aren't you?" Orli appealed.

Dom grinned. "Sure, why not?"

"Sean?"

The man in question was helpfully gathering dishes up for Liv and gave Orli a quick, incredulous look.

"Ok, ok but we'll miss you - who else is gonna check the length of the rope, the height of the bridge, the ..." Orli was cut short by a flying sausage.

"I'm sure that's in direct contravention of food regulations" said Elijah, snickering. Sean just grinned good naturedly and sent another one flying in Elijah's direction.

"Lij?"

"I'd love to," he said with a rueful look, "but I'm on set Saturday."

"Billy then?" said Orli, wondering where Billy had got to. Billy had been raiding the fridge for some more beer, bringing the spoils back with him.

"Speak of the devil" said Dom.

"The devil doesn't bring you ice cold lager though, does he?" said Billy, dangling a can temptingly in front of Dom.

"I've changed my mind" said Dom quickly. "You're an angel, a little Billy angel complete with wings and a halo."

"That's a mental image I really don't want to conjure with" interjected Elijah.

"Why ever not?" grinned Dom "I think he'd look cute in a white shiny dress."

He made little kissy faces at Billy's grimace. Ah yes, Stage Two of Operation Homer was well under way. Billy just leant forward and placed the condensation-cooled can against the band of skin between Dom's t-shirt and low riders.

"Bastard!" shrieked Dom.

Orli sensing that his money was getting further out of his reach drew Billy back into the conversation.

"Bills, you up for a little bungee jumping?"

"You have to be kidding Orli - no way are you getting me to jump off a great height with nothing more than a glorified rubber band to stop me breaking my neck."

"But Billy, you'd have your fluffy little angel wings to keep you up!" said Dom sweetly.

The fluffy angel harrumphed.

Since Billy had been busy on his beer expedition while the rest of the cast were bickering over the seating arrangements, he was left with the least-favoured option: a couple of cushions at the roots of one of the trees supporting the hammock.

"I do enough tripping over tree roots on set every day without having to sit on the damn things on my time off" he grumbled as he picked his way past the glasses and plates dotted on the grass.

"You can always share with me" said Dom, patting the pale canvas invitingly. Billy did a double take as if to confirm that, yes, Dom was indeed lying in a hammock, before he rolled his eyes heavenwards as if making mute appeal for enlightenment.

"Run Billy, run!" laughed Elijah

"It’s verrah comfy" said Dom, mimicking Billy’s accent perfectly and stretching to demonstrate. The short shirt rode up higher revealing Dom’s navel and the fine flare of dark hair that led both south and northwards. Billy’s eyes lingered for a moment before they turned to Dom’s, bewilderment written as clear as the mirth on Dom’s face.

Just a joke then thought Billy, somehow though his mind couldn’t figure a suitable rejoinder. You’re slipping up there Billy me lad, must be the heat.

"C’mon Billy, it’s fun." Dom was now swinging the hammock with a jaunty rock of his hips.

"Did they teach you that in Nursery?" said Billy, dismayed that his wits seemed to have left him.

"Nah, too busy learning games, and football and tackling ..."

Uh oh, thought Billy but it was too late. Dom was already grabbing for him, and Dominic Monaghan was one determined bugger when he wanted something and he wanted Billy in the hammock with him. Which was just plain bizarre considering how much they regularly shared a tree and why the hell was he thinking and not struggling. By the time he was in the hammock struggling seemed a moot point especially as Billy’s pitiful attempts set up a restless creaking from above.

They both turned nervous eyes upwards to the sturdy looking anchor ropes that were see-sawing wildly in the wake of their sudden landing. They stilled, even Mr "Energiser Bunny" Monaghan ceased his shenanigans.

"Abandon ship" giggled Elijah.

They were still, soft and still.

"The good ship Monaghan is about to go down" said Orli.

Soft and still, and Billy’s eyes were round and green and bemused.

Sean choked, spluttered, sprayed his drink across Elijah.

Round and green and bemused. And Dom’s eyes were blue and bright and wanting.

"In that case," said Elijah thoughtfully "Billy’s going to need a lifejacket, in case he gets sucked under."

Blue and bright and wanting. Wanting. Wrapped around him. To prevent escape surely? Arms, thigh, hip, heat, Dom. Dom?

There was a collective groan, the audience far too enthralled with their appalling puns to notice what was really going on in the hammock.

"Ah yes, very useful these lifejackets. I hear you have a little inflatable something tucked away under the bed for emergencies, eh Dom?" said Orli with a mischievous smirk.

Arms, thighs, hips, heat. Bodies pressed against one another, the curve of the hammock enclosing them. The full-body contact. Billy enclosed, encircled. The feel of the inside of Dom's thigh against Billy's, Dom's leg almost wrapped around Billy. Thoughts strangely fuzzy. Just aware of the sense of touch.

"Can't be too careful, never know when a storm's gonna blow" nodded Elijah sagely, whose remark evoked amused wincing from the others, several of whom expressed their verdict on that last awful double-entendre by hurling chunks of leftover bread rolls at him.

Touch. On every slow swing of the hammock their bodies gravitated closer. Dom's face was so close now it was getting blurry, his eyes bigger, the message in his eyes clearer.
"Billy ..."
Dom's voice was low, buzzing in the heat, vibrating somewhere in Billy's chest.
"Billy?"
Dom had taken his hand, was weaving fingers between his, was ...

Billy's axis spun, literally. He found himself falling to earth with a ridiculously loud thud. Thankfully he landed on his arse. Dom wasn't quite so graceful, landing in a huddle at Billy's feet. He heard Elijah yelling "Men overboard!" but it was Orli who had tipped them over. Orli who seemed to be deriving an obscene amount of satisfaction from sending them sprawling.

"We're under attack! Torpedo the bastard!" yelled Dom, and hurled himself in a rugby-tackle at Orli's knees, knocking him down into a heap of flailing arms and legs. Billy piled on top of Dom and Orli, joining in with the general mayhem, laughing as much as any of the others ... but deep down beneath all the distraction of the rough-and-tumble, part of him was quietly, wordlessly puzzling over Dom. Something felt ... adrift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 3

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Date: 2004-08-05 03:28 pm (UTC)

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