Title: Metamorphosis
Author: Jo
Pairings:
Billy Boyd/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Summary: Billy contemplates.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen. Well, okay...it MIGHT have, but neither one of 'em saw fit to tell me about it.
Author's Notes: Written for the Contre La Montre "character development challenge"; time limit of 120 minutes, written in 104 minutes.

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going thru

-- David Bowie, "Changes"

11:45 p.m.

"...s a great song," Orlando yelled in a drunken slur, the alcohol mangling his normally smooth accent.

Billy swallowed his mouthful of ale, nodded. He had no clue what Orlando had just said. But then, that was normal around Orlando. Rather, it seemed normal for *him* around Orlando. Everyone else seemed to understand him just fine.

Maybe it's just because I'm getting old.

"Aye, it is." Another nod. When in doubt, go with the affirmative. At least with Orlando. Billy'd discovered over the course of their three year relationship that the affirmative was always a safe bet. Unless, of course, Orlando was asking a question. And Billy was positive he hadn't heard a question mark. Ah, well...he'd just take his chances.

"Dance wi' me?" More mangling of the accent as big, brown eyes stared at Billy.

Christ, the kid looked just like a puppy dog when he stared at a person like that. And Billy still hadn't figured out how to say no to the puppy dog. So he nodded, finished his ale, and slid off his stool to be promptly dragged out into the middle of the very crowded dance floor.

And he danced. Or, more accurately, he just sort of stood in one spot and moved along with the heavy, throbbing beat as he watched the wild gyrations and gesticulations that Orlando called dancing. Thank God it wasn't Elijah. At least Orlando had rhythm. Of a type.

Though it was questionable whether or not rhythm was even needed for this song. Billy wasn't sure who the band was -- or if it even was a band -- but he was certain they'd only given a passing nod to learning how to play their instruments. But Orlando seemed to like it. Granted, Orlando had bouts of bad taste, but this...this went beyond bad into atrocious.

I'm definitely getting too old for this.

Then...oh, hello. Orlando was rubbing against Billy, smiling that slow smile that always -- ALWAYS -- made Billy's knees weak. However, it had the exact opposite effect on another part of his anatomy. A fact that Orlando knew all too well. So he smiled another slow smile, rubbed against Billy again, and bent his head so that warm lips brushed Billy's ear.

"Fancy goin' home now, love?"

Oh, yes, Billy was definitely ready to go home. And parts of him were ready and eager to point the way. Another nod. Sometimes, words weren't needed with Orlando. This was one of those times.

A warm, calloused hand wrapped around Billy's and tugged him off the floor. Out the door. Into the car. And then that warm, calloused hand was doing something very interesting to Billy's zipper.

Maybe I'm not getting so old at that...

+ + +

3:00 a.m.

Billy stood at the window, wondering why he couldn't sleep. Orlando was sleeping. Soundly, in fact. As evidenced by the soft snores coming from the bed. And Billy had to wonder if that soundness was from the dancing, the alcohol, or the sex. Not that it really mattered. Orlando would be wide awake and ready to go in a few hours. He always was. Sometimes Billy thought about the fortune he could make if he could just bottle that energy and sell it.

It'll fade soon enough. When he gets old, in another ten years or so.

It wasn't that Orlando was young. It was just that he was...young. Billy sighed, twitched the curtains aside. Orlando was young compared to Billy. Over nine years separated them. And, sure, age was a just a number. Most of the time. But sometimes, like tonight, Billy wondered about that.

He was going to be thirty-five years old in a few weeks. And Orlando...Orlando was barely twenty-six. He was young, with his whole life still ahead of him. Exciting projects, exotic places to see, millions of people to meet and love. Sure, he loved Billy. That was never in doubt.

But loving someone and being in love with them.... Well, that was an entirely different kettle of fish, wasn't it? The sad thing was that Billy could clearly remember a time -- not all that long ago, in fact -- when they'd both been madly in love with each other. Determined to take on the world together. And so they had, for three damn good years. So why was Billy doubting now?

It was the sleeplessness, he told himself, ignoring the tiny voice inside his head that called him a liar. That was all. He was happy with Orlando, and Orlando was happy with him. They were happy together. And age was just a number.

That's what he told himself as he slid back into bed and closed his eyes.

Are you really happy, though?

+ + +

4:00 a.m.

This was starting to get ridiculous. But at least the view was different. Billy sighed, let the curtains to the kitchen window drop. He didn't really like the view, though. For that matter, he didn't really like Los Angeles. Oh, it was nice to visit and all, but.... It was too crowded, too cluttered, for his tastes. Give him open fields dotted with Scottish heather, bold mountains capped with snow, rugged hills as far as the eye could see. He'd take that any day over the concrete and steel of Southern California.

God, he missed Scotland. And tried to figure out why on Earth he'd ever let himself be talked into moving to L.A. Oh, right. The other three hobbits were there. And Orlando. Don't forget Orlando. The great love of his life was there, as well, transplanted from Canterbury. And Billy, being Billy, had gladly followed Orlando. After all, that's what you did when you loved someone. You followed them wherever they took you, kept them close.

True, there was that old adage about loving something and setting it free. Billy'd always thought that it applied to wild things. Cause you couldn't keep them caged up. Everyone knew that. People, though.... It was human nature to keep loved ones close. Just how things happened.

Orlando's a wild thing.

Again, Billy ignored the tiny voice in his head. Sometimes it said the most absurd things. Orlando wasn't caged. He was here of his own free will. Just like Billy. They had both chose this. Happily, in fact. Meeting, dating, falling in love, moving in together. Their entire relationship had been a mutual decision. One Billy -- and Orlando as well -- had enthusiastically participated in.

Be an adult. One of you has to...and you know what you have to do.

Oh, shut up. It wasn't like anyone had forced him to pack up his entire life and move halfway around the world. No, that had definitely been his choice. He'd been following his heart.

And right now, his heart was leading him back to bed. With Orlando. Where he belonged. And where he should be sleeping. So, again, he crawled under the sheets and closed his eyes.

+ + +

5:00 a.m.

This was beyond ridiculous now. In fact, it was bordering on surreal. He should not still be awake. And he definitely shouldn't be thinking this much. Over-thinking. There was nothing wrong with his and Orlando's relationship. Nothing at all.

Ah, but is there anything right with it still?

"It's not like we take each other for granted, or anything," Billy muttered to the darkness beyond the window.

Great, now he was talking to himself. But he didn't. Take Orlando for granted. And Orlando didn't take him for granted. They just...were. And they knew that. It wasn't taking someone for granted to know that they'd be there when you got home. It wasn't. Was it?

Of course it wasn't. And just because they each accepted invitations for the other...that didn't mean they took each other for granted. It was just... It was knowing how the other would think and react. That was all. Billy certainly didn't feel taken for granted when Orlando would come home and blithely announce that he'd told Dom they'd join him and his girlfriend for dinner without checking to see if Billy had plans. Not that Billy ever had plans that didn't include Orlando.

But he used to. Have plans that didn't include Orlando. Oh, yes, he could remember when it was just the hobbits going out for drinks, or going out dancing til the wee hours of the morning, or just sitting around one living room or another, playing video games and teasing Elijah unmericfully over his crush on Liv.

Billy didn't feel taken for granted when Orlando made plans for the two of them. Anymore than, he was sure, Orlando felt taken for granted when Billy made plans for them. That was just what couples did. It was human nature.

Human nature to take each other for granted, too.

It wasn't his nature, though. He was too smart, too mature, too old to fall into that trap. He'd seen a bit of the world, lived a little. He knew better.

Yet he wondered why, as he crawled back into bed again, it felt as if he didn't know a damn thing.

+ + +

6:00 a.m.

Oh, for.... To hell with it. Sleep was over-rated anyway. He'd just take a shower, make some coffee, get his day started. Besides, Orlando would be awake soon.

Orlando's not the wild thing here....

Green eyes met green eyes in the mirror over the sink. Only, they weren't quite so green this morning. Bloodshot was a better description. Nothing that a hot shower and a cup of coffee wouldn't cure, though. And, finally, the voice inside his head was making sense. Of course Orlando wasn't a wild thing.

You are.

Oops. There it went again. Back into the realm of idiotic and insane. Billy wondered if he was going crazy as he leaned over and started the water for his shower.

He certainly wasn't a wild thing. He was almost thirty-five, for crying out loud. That was much too old to decide one was a wild thing. Besides, he wasn't living in a cage.

Cages aren't always made of steel and stone, bars and doors.

That was it. He was going to find a gun and shoot that little voice. It had cost him an entire night's sleep with its incessant babbling. He laughed, then immediately stopped as the short, frantic sound echoed in the small room. Right. Shower, then coffee. In that order.

The Highlands are in your blood.

So they were. But that didn't mean he was caged. Silly voice. Didn't know what in the world it was talking about. And Billy wondered when he'd crossed the line from lucid to deranged as he ducked his head under the water.

You weren't meant for concrete and steel, highrises and freeways.

California wasn't that bad. It had the ocean. And mountains. So they weren't the same as the mountains in Scotland. So what? There was no place in the entire world that was like Scotland. New Zealand came close, but still wasn't it.

True, Los Angeles was everything that Billy really didn't like about civilization: giant concrete buildings, roads everywhere, enormous crowds of people, and the traffic. Dear God, don't get him going on the traffic. Horrendous didn't even come close. But it was home now.

You were meant for Highlands and heather...

Shut up.

...kilts and bagpipes...

Shut.up.

Freedom....

SHUT.UP!

+ + +

7:00 a.m.

Billy looked up from his mug when a still half-asleep Orlando stumbled into the kitchen. And stopped. He really was quite adorable this way, Billy thought. Curls all mussed, eyes half-closed, confusion creasing his brow as he tried to figure out exactly why the rest of the world had started without him.

"You're up early."

"So I am," Billy said, returned his eyes to the morning paper.

Orlando pulled a mug from the cabinet, then stopped again. More confusion. "I don't drink coffee."

"I know," Billy said quietly, looking up again.

"We always have tea in the morning." Orlando looked around, met Billy's eyes. And Billy wondered why his heart didn't melt at the look in those dark orbs.

"I don't like tea for breakfast."

"You don't?" A slow blink. Orlando hadn't known that apparently.

Billy wondered why he'd never said anything. Probably because he'd always thought Orlando had known. "No, I don't."

"Oh." And that was all Orlando said as he stood there, looking confused and more than a little lost.

"Orlando," Billy said gently, folding the paper and setting it aside. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," Orlando said after a few minutes pause. "I think we do."

You don't feel so old now...do you?

+ + +

8:00 a.m.

Billy let himself out of the house and started down the sidewalk. A jauntily whistled tune passed his lips, and he smiled. What a glorious day. The sun was shining, a warm breeze was blowing, and a delicate haze hung over everything still, turning it into something that didn't quite seem real.

Almost like Scotland in the mornings.

And Billy realized that he'd be seeing that again soon enough. Sure, it would take some time to get everything organized and get his things moved, but...he had time. Plenty of it.

He wasn't almost thirty-five years old. He was almost thirty-five years young.

And Orlando had, surprisingly, taken their discussion well. In fact, he'd agreed with everything Billy had said. Which had surprised Billy to no end. They'd both shown amazing maturity and grace in acknowledging the metamorphosis that their relationship had undergone. Friends to lovers. And back to friends. Always.

With a smile and a bounce in his step that had been missing for far too long, Billy decided he'd rather have that friendship any day of the week. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him.

No tears, no recriminations, just quiet acceptance and a long, warm hug that had felt better than anything Billy had ever experienced. And now...well....

Now, I'm going home.


~fin~