"OK, all done."

The makeup girl’s voice was drowned out by the sound of the Ataris blaring from the stereo, and she had to yell to be heard. "Dominic!"

Dominic jumped and looked up from his magazine. "What?"

"I said, I’m done. You’re all set." She tucked a stray curl behind one ear (she hadn’t labored for over an hour for them to be hidden, now had she?) and smiled. "Perfect."

Dom smiled back at her, saw the blush spread in her cheeks, and gave her a wicked little wink. "You got that right, love."

Billy rolled his eyes and groaned, though it was lost in the deafening music. Was there no one immune to that wink? Every makeup girl in the crew had already succumbed to its power. And all the script girls, and the ladies over in Costume, and that one guy in the kraft service tent...he elbowed Sean in the chair next to him, going over some last-minute script changes with practiced oblivion to the din from the stereo. "Come on, mate, let’s go get some breakfast. I’ve suddenly come over a bit nauseous."

Dom calmly flipped him off as he reached over and shut off the stereo. The blast of music abruptly stopped in mid-riff. Elijah snapped to attention in his chair, startled out of a sound sleep by the sudden silence. "Whuh--?" he spluttered, bleary-eyed and wig slightly askew.

The makeup girl, all business again, went round and adjusted the offending curls. "I will never know how you can sleep in all that racket," she said, shaking her head.

"Elijah could sleep through a hurricane, Anna," said Sean. "Hope you have something to get that drool off his chin." He and Billy were standing up, stretching slightly, testing out the fit of today’s feet and trying not to scratch their heads where the wig-glue was drying. Sean stifled a huge yawn. "At least he gets to sleep," he said. "I, on the other hand, need some coffee if I’m going to do this scene without falling over." He and Billy left the little trailer, wincing a bit when the morning sun flooded in as they opened the door, then staggering out into the chilly New Zealand morning with the crew members bustling past and the day whirring into busy existence. The door shut behind them with a clatter.

Elijah was peering at himself in the mirror, obsessing over a half-healed pimple that would not go away. Anna popped his hand good-naturedly. "Stop that," she said. "I just covered it up, you’ll mess up the powder." She gathered up the last of her things and zipped up her bag, then surveyed the two Hobbits with a final sigh of approval. Her work for the morning was done. "OK, guys, I’ll see you after lunch for touch-ups. Good luck." With a last little glance at Dom she made her exit, and the trailer door banged shut behind her as well.

Dom leaned back in his chair to watch her go, smiling. "I like that one--nice arse."

Elijah shook his head, the make-up lights bright on his face in the mirror. "You’re awful."

Dom’s grin widened, but as he watched Elijah peer into the mirror the smile changed subtly. Darkened. He got out of his chair and walked over to stand behind Elijah, watching their reflections, before leaning down to whisper into his ear, "Don’t worry...I like yours better."

Elijah’s body tensed at Dom’s sudden proximity, but his voice remained aloof. "She can have you, asshole. Call her back in here if you like--" He gave a squeak of surprise when Dom’s mouth closed on his earlobe. "--doesn’t matter to me--erk--I don’t care what you--ooohh..."

His false tirade trailed off in a skitter of exhaled breath. For a moment, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair and Dom’s face against his neck, and everything else vanished. The feelings that Dom’s lips triggered in him--the heartbeat leaping into fifth gear, the sparks of adrenaline panging in his chest and belly, the heat uncurling lower down--were still relatively new to him, and still startling in their ferocity. New, even after four weeks of Dom’s fingers and mouth and skin and voice. Four weeks since that blurry night when Dom drove him home from a bender at the pub with Billy and Orli, and they drank another half a bottle of wine before suddenly and simultaneously leaping upon each other and falling unceremoniously off the sofa, kicking over the coffee table, crushing and devouring and desperately unleashing a year’s worth of pent-up lust in one frantic fuck on the hardwood floor. Waking up the next morning, hung over and sore and sheepish, but not awkward, not apologetic, just...relieved. Content. Natural. Comfortable enough to go have a shower and a proper shag on a proper bed, this time as lovers and not combatants. And then four weeks of everything suddenly new, every day a heady rush of stolen glances, surreptitious touches, days of delicious secret knowledge and nights of blissful new discovery. Four weeks of this...Dom’s lips wet and hot on his earlobe and Dom’s breath on his quivering neck and Dom’s voice purring into his quickly-dissolving thoughts...

Elijah jerked and sat up as reality came back to him. What was he doing? He suddenly became aware of the crew scuttling by outside, oblivious to the fact that two of the Hobbits were necking in the makeup trailer like high-schoolers on a porch swing. What if someone had seen them like that? He leapt off the chair, made more difficult by the raging hard-on he now sported, and tugged at his glistening earlobe with one hand.

"Stop it, you’ll mess up the glue. "He knew that was a petty copout and felt himself blush.

Dom knew it too. He straightened, crossed his arms. "What’s wrong?"

Elijah couldn’t meet his eyes. "Nothing--I mean, c’mon, Dom...we shouldn’t be...I mean...someone might see us."

He felt, rather than saw, Dom’s scowl. "So what if they did?"

Elijah said nothing. A sudden realization hit Dom and altered his posture, made him jerk his shoulders back and cross his arms tighter and tilt his head in disbelief and quickly rising resentment.

"You aren’t ever going to tell anyone about us, are you?"

Elijah looked up with a gasp, started to protest, "That’s not true--" but Dom cut him off.

"No, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t let me touch you on set, you won’t ride with me to the pubs or over to Billy’s anymore--you’re hiding. Hiding us."

Elijah tried his only real tactic. "Our contracts--"

But Dom wasn’t having it. "Fuck the contracts! You know that’s all a bunch of bullshit anyway, it’s in every contract and no one gives a shit. No one hides. But you do."

Elijah looked at the floor, miserable in the accusing tone of Dom’s voice. And then the worst of all, the phrase he knew was coming next: "You ashamed of me? Is that it? You ashamed of us?"

"No, Dom, of course not--"

"You are, aren’t you?" Dom’s quick temper had flared, and he was pacing behind the empty makeup chair, the muscles in his clenched arms flexing spasmodically. "It’s fine when you want it, it’s fine to sneak over for a midnight hotel fuck, but for God’s sake don’t let my agent find out! What, don’t want anyone to know about your little experiment?"

"Dom, please--"

"That what this is? Is this your film-star groupie-fuck secret queer experiment? Gonna tell your wife one day, ‘yeah I shagged a bloke once, no big deal, just wanted to know what a cock tasted like?’"

"Dom, stop it!" Elijah shouted, and the volume of it startled them both. It echoed in the little room and bounced off the tension between them. Elijah looked at Dom’s set jaw and rigid spine and saw that under the flaring temper, Dom was genuinely upset. Shocked by the realization he took a step closer, peering into Dom’s face. For the first time, Elijah could see clearly that there was more to this in Dom’s eyes than sex. There was a depth of something behind the gray swirl of his eyes, only thinly veiled by the anger, something naked and untold and frighteningly profound. Elijah was disquieted by it, and yet he could not stop staring at it. He felt a sudden desire to fall into that vastness and be lost and drowned in the thick swirl of something wholly new and terrifyingly intense. He took another step closer.

"Dom..." he began quietly. "I’m not ashamed of you. Please, I...this is not a game, this is not something I’m trying out just for the hell of it. You have to believe me. I just..."

He drew close, standing inches away from Dom’s glaring face, and touched him lightly on the arm. "This is all really new for me, Dom. Can you understand that? You’ve been honest with yourself for years. I’m...I just need some time, OK? Please?"

Dom’s face was cracking, tension slipping out of him, drawn out by Elijah’s pleading blue gaze. Elijah reached out and cupped his face between his hands, coaxing him closer. He gave a little sigh of resignation and took Elijah’s face in his own hands, leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

"Never could say no to you," he whispered, and covered Elijah’s warm and trembling mouth with his own. Warmth and bliss and peace.

Elijah heard the trailer door open before he saw it. His distracted mind registered the fact and he sprang backwards, away from Dom, his head whipping round to see the wide exposed doorway and the gaping face of Anna the makeup girl. From the look on her face, the door had been open long enough to give her a thorough view. Framed behind her were Billy and Sean, the latter with an expression of stunned disbelief and the former with an unidentifiable look of anxiety. All around them, frozen in place and already whispering like leaves in the wind, stood what seemed like a myriad of camera grips, lighting techs, script girls, errand runners...and Peter. He blinked twice, his face unreadable.

Anna finally spoke. "Uh...they told me to come get you. You’re needed on set."

Elijah stood transfixed, carved out of white stone. Dom, however, merely looked pissed off. He reached out and grabbed the handle of the door.

"We’ll be out in a second," he said tersely, and yanked the door shut with a loud bang, thinking to himself, you can say that again. Whether we like it or not.