Warnings: supernatural. minor character death, talk of death, language, VERY DARK HUMOR
Summary: What if there were people who could see how, what of and when a person will die? What if one of those people was Orlando? And how does Sean fit into all this?
Disclaimer: None of this is true. I don’t own the guys. And I mean no disrespect to any morticians out there.
Author's Note: Many, many, many thanks to my wonderful and talented beta simplyshanni *hugs you*
Chapter 1, 2, and 3 - wherein Orlando is at the diner
Chapter 4 - wherein Viggo diaglogues with Orlando
Chapter 5 - wherein Sean makes dinner for Orlando
Chapter 6 - wherein Orlando takes a little ride
Chapter 7 – wherein Orlando ‘commandeers’ a vehicle
Chapter 8 - Wherein the detectives question Sean and Orlando
"Sean, I have to tell you something."
"Mmmmn, whup ip it," Sean mumbled.
“I think it would be better if you took your mouth off my cock,” Orlando suggested while laying back on the huge four-poster bed, idly stroking through the golden curls of the firm chest beneath his questing fingers.
Sean gave one final lick up Orlando's length, which caused the young man to whimper. He looked up, his eyes glazed over. "Bit of an awkward time, don’cha think, lad?" He sat back up and leaned down on one of the pillows next to Orlando.
"It's rather important," Orlando frowned. He stole a quick glance up at Sean's head.
Well, at least, for now.
Which was a good thing, but the vision could and would undoubtedly pop up again. He should probably take advantage of the time when it didn't appear, not that they hadn't already. After the first session, which had him moaning and screaming as Sean pulled those damnable anal beads out of his arse, one at a bloody time, and the second fuck-fest that swiftly followed, they both wondered if the large bed could withstand such abuse. Yes, he could honestly say that he had taken advantage of his ‘visionary down-time’.
However he couldn't put the inevitable off any longer.
He'd had a chance to regain his composure after that harrowing experience in the living room earlier when he saw his lover's face covered in streams of imaginary blood.
And who could possibly forget that damn detective, Buscemi?
The man had been a walking, talking, bloated corpse, with everything exposed because his body had imploded in on itself. That’s what happened to a body when it got sealed in an apartment in the heart of Los Angeles during the middle of August. It wasn’t until his vision had finally cleared, and the detective had appeared in his true form, that Orlando finally felt the first stirrings of sympathy for the officer.
No one should have to die like that, alone and unloved.
Billy's greatest fear in life suddenly became more real to him.
As for the other detective?
He would have a heart attack, plain and simple. Of course, whatever he was doing when he had the heart attack is anybody's guess, but Orlando could come up with some possible scenarios since the good detective would die at the ripe old age of seventy-two with a big smile on his face.
And speaking of love, sex and unlucky boyfriends…because really, when all was said and done, it all came back to Sean, didn’t it? Although he knew he had a small window of time before the ghastly vision would become reality, he had seen enough to know that Sean’s impending death would indeed happen in the immediate future.
And the wheels turning round and round in Orlando's head made him realize that either Sean was the most unlucky chap in the whole world, or someone was out to get him.
But after the suspicious circumstances surrounding Mr. Leary, he would have to go with the latter.
And it wasn't just him, it was that detective too, he knew.
And possibly Sean.
But Orlando guessed Sean was just too shocked by all the events to have that catch up with him. So here he was, after having been sexually gratified twice in the past three hours, somewhat ready to stop putting off the inevitable.
The voice in his head, the one that mocked him on a daily basis, laughed riotously.
Yeah right, you're really fucking ready. So tell him.
And he would. He had to. He could do it.
But things were rarely that easy, as Orlando soon came to find out.
The young man poised himself in front of Sean, sitting back on his legs. "So here's the thing, yeah?"
"Go ahead lad. You can tell me anything, you know that don’cha?" Sean asked rhetorically as a smile formed on his lips. "Especially after earlier...whew!" He started to laugh and then proceeded to tickle his young lover in all the spots he had just learned were quite vulnerable.
"Stop it, Sean!" Orlando laughed. "Stop. I need to do this. I...I..."
Come on, you can say it. ‘I can see things, Sean. I can see into the future, mainly how people die, sort of, like one of those freaks from The Enquirer, but real.’ Go ahead, say it.
Okay, now all he had to do was get the words out into the open.
"Orli?" Sean’s smile faltered. "You're not serious about anyone else, are you?"
"No! No, Sean. Just you...just you," Orlando specified.
"Well that's a relief," Sean sighed. "It can't be too terrible if it's not that. So what is it?"
"I...you see…there are..."
There are people, like me, I don't know how many of them are out there, who can tell just by looking at a person, when they'll die. It's a very real vision for the people like me. I’ve seen your death, and I prevented it this afternoon, but it looks like that wasn't enough…
Those were the words the voice in his head was trying to feed him.
All he had to do was actually say them. So why wasn't his mouth moving? Every time he went to form a word, nothing came out. So why were his lips not moving?
He realized that Sean was watching him the whole time, an expectant look on his face.
"You're not ready for this...are you? I mean...what we might have," Sean stuttered out. "I mean, I'll understand, but I thought you felt the same way..."
"Oh God! I'm bollocksing this up! I am such a bloody prat. Prat! Prat!" Orlando shouted as he continually hit himself on the forehead.
"Lad, enough, enough," Sean chuckled as he slid his hand around the nape of Orlando's neck and brought their foreheads together. He then ran his thumb over the spot the younger man had been abusing. "So it's not that?"
"No! It's that I..."
I don't want you to die!
"I...want very much to be with you. I want everything with...you," Orlando murmured, whether or not he meant to say it or not.
"Is that what you wanted to say?" Sean smiled, "because you'll have made me quite bloody happy if it is."
The man needed to stop doing that.
Smiling at him.
It was very distracting.
"I...oh bloody hell! I called my friends during intermission," Orlando confessed, using air quotes to denote the interval between both times Sean had fucked him through the mattress.
Orlando couldn't believe he had just lied to Sean.
Well, actually, technically, he hadn't, but it hadn't been what he wanted to say.
"You called...you called your friends?" Sean asked in confusion and then snickered. "To what? Give them a blow by blow report? How did I rate?" Sean teased.
"No that's not it. I just wanted them to come by tonight. Give me a lift so you wouldn't have to and...um…" Orlando paused sheepishly, "I wanted one of them to bring a surprise over for you."
"I would've given you a lift. In fact, I'll give you a lift right now," Sean teased. He quickly grabbed Orlando's arse and swung him so that he was laying on his back. "Gotcha!" Sean beamed. "Not lettin' you up, lad. Was that what you wanted to tell me? Did you think I'd be mad?" he frowned.
"Um, yes and...no...I never thought you would be mad...it's just…" Orlando stuttered while biting his lip. "I just thought it might be a strange thing to tell you and..."
And I'm a filthy, no good, rotten, cowardly liar.
The voice kept screaming through his head but he didn't care just then, because at that particular moment in time, Sean was quite effectively nibbling on his neck and running his tongue up his throat, along the jawline and oh, right there...
That spot right under his ear that could make Orlando do whatever anybody wanted him to do. It was his Achilles Heel and Sean had nailed that on the head right away.
When he realized the euphemism he had just used, the young man let out a very loud, nervous laugh.
"Tickles?" Sean taunted.
"Yeah, don't stop," Orlando said, biting his lip again.
One lie begets another.
"You shouldn't do that," Sean said. "Let me do it for you," he growled as he dove for Orlando's lips, pulling the plump flesh between his teeth. Once he had finished biting the young man's lips, he soothed them with his tongue.
They rested that way for awhile, kissing each other, completely lost to whatever was going on around them before they both realized two new problems arising from below.
"Gentlemen," Orlando giggled, "let me introduce Thing One and Thing Two."
"I can't believe it!" Sean grinned. "We should both be rubbed raw by now."
"Yeah, well, believe it because the proof of it is poking me in the hip bone."
"Up for round two...or would that be three?" Sean asked, his brows furrowed.
"I believe it would be three," Orlando sing-songed and in a maneuver he had learned from that same kick boxer in Belgium, he had his older lover pinned on his back.
"You're going to have to teach me that trick, lad, if I'm to keep up with you," Sean grunted.
"Can't. What is it they say about teaching an old dog new tricks?" Orlando taunted as he ran his fingers along Sean's chest.
"Why you!" Sean mock-raged while resuming the tickling of Orlando's sensitive areas.
"Na-uh-uh. Too slow, old man!" And with that, Orlando grabbed another condom off the bedside table and opened it with his teeth. He tried to spit the corner of the wrapper out of his mouth but it stuck to his lip and he had to pull it off. He then rolled the condom over Sean's cock and maneuvered himself over the organ.
"Wait! Shouldn't you prepare...," but before Sean could finish that sentence, Orlando impaled himself on his older lover. "Unghhhh, God!" Sean let out a long, visceral moan.
"Yeah, what you just said," Orlando gasped as he rode Sean slowly. The young man had needed no preparations since their recent lovemaking had left him quite well lubricated.
Orlando gyrated his hips back and forth, setting a languorous pace.
It felt so good to be there.
Sean filled him. Completely.
Just like he filled the gap in Orlando’s life, an emptiness that his friends and Viggo simply couldn’t begin to touch.
And yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one telling him he needed to handle the big problem at hand.
The problem that kept flashing like a goddamn neon sign in the blackest recesses of his mind.
It flashed day in and day out.
The one that, when lit up, read YOU'RE BLOWING IT!
And yet he could wait. Right now he was riding Sean and nothing was going to distract him from that. Besides, it would be rude to ruin this moment. And God did it feel good!
Just him and Sean.
And the big elephant in the room.
This was slowly driving him crazy.
When he thought of the secret he was hiding from the man moving so smoothly beneath him, he lost his concentration and looked around the room fearfully. The worry and anxiety that gripped at his heart were threatening to overwhelm him, making it hard to even breathe. Fighting to regain control, he told himself, and that annoying voice, that there was nothing he could do about it right this second. That being the case, he might as well finish what he bloody started. So he continued.
He once again put everything out of his mind and concentrated on the pleasure he was bestowing on Sean and how absolutely wonderful it all felt. That slow, glorious ride, the way Sean was groaning beneath him, thrusting up into him, all led him to tell that voice to ‘fuck off.’ Wanting nothing more than to just get on with it, Orlando grabbed hold of the headboard in front of him and sped his undulations to twice the rate he had been going. Unfortunately, the more frenzied pace caused the headboard to hit the wall, rattling the pictures hanging above the bed and knocking one over. It fell down on the bedside lamp and sent it toppling to the floor.
As they were both so caught up in each other, neither man reacted to anything going on around them. It was as if a mutual electric current was surging through their bodies, connecting them together, one continuous circuit that eliminated all outside interference. Orlando never had to touch himself and still his orgasm tore through him, erupting all over Sean’s chest. Sean roared his climax as the young man held onto him for all he was worth.
In the aftermath, they both clung onto each other, panting, yet sated and happy.
"I think you're trying to kill me, lad," Sean chuckled.
"No Sean," Orlando sighed, laughing quietly at the irony of that statement.
I'm trying to save you!
But of course, those words would not come forth.
"So when are these friends of yours coming over?" Sean asked.
Orlando glanced over at the clock. "Shite! Probably in the next half hour. Is it okay if I take a shower?" he inquired hurriedly.
Sean nodded toward the master bath and let Orlando up, grabbing him once again before he left the bed. The older man planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips before he let him go. "It's too bad you have to take that shower so soon. I like this smell on you." Sean sniffed along his younger lover's collarbone and up around to the nape of his neck.
"Dirty old man," Orlando winked. "I smell like you."
"I know," Sean leered.
"I won't be long," Orlando chimed back and proceeded to enter the bathroom where he started the shower. He waited for the water to warm thoroughly before stepping into the large, glass-encased stall. He grabbed the soap and started to lather his body, trying not to think of another missed opportunity to tell Sean about what he knew and what he suspected. Grabbing the shampoo, he washed his hair quickly.
What should have been time spent thinking about the glorious and wonderfully mind-blowing sex that he had just had, ended up being time spent brooding about the guilt that was weighing so heavily on his chest.
An involuntary shiver shuddered through him, despite the cascade of hot water running in soothing rivulets over his body.
And just as his thoughts on Sean were coursing through his mind, the object of his musings peeked his head into the shower. "'M going downstairs to the garage, lad. I need a hammer to fix the picture that fell. Okay?"
"Okay," Orlando smiled lazily at his partially naked lover. He continued to rub soap all over his chest as he thought about how sexy Sean looked when he peeked his head in, wearing only jeans that were buttoned half way. The way his hair was sleep-mussed. The way he...
Did he say 'hammer?'
"Sean! No! Wait!" Orlando called frantically as he turned off the shower and stepped out of the stall. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and ran out of the master bedroom, running down the stairs calling out Sean's name as he did so. He could feel the shampoo that was still in his hair drip down his forehead to sting at his eyes.
"No! Sean! Please don't!"
He said he would be in the garage!
"Sean!" Orlando ran screaming for the door that separated the house and the garage, bumping into Sean as he was coming out of the door, a hammer in one hand.
"Orli?" Sean laughed, "what is it? You didn't finish your shower. There should've been enough hot water," Sean frowned.
"Put that hammer down, Sean," Orlando instructed cautiously, as if he were talking a suicide jumper down off a roof top.
The young man winced when he thought of his track record with that.
"Um...no, I need to re-hang the picture that fell off the wall and I don't bloody well plan on doing it with me bare hands. Now why don't you go upstairs and finish rinsing off lad," Sean suggested patronizingly.
"Sean, give me the bloody hammer...now!" Orlando barked.
"Okay, I don't think I like where this is going," Sean retorted.
Orlando made a grab for the hammer, "Put it down before someone gets hurt, Sean!" Orlando finally got hold of the tool but his hands were still damp, which caused it to slip from Sean's grip and land on his bare foot.
Sean howled in pain and started hopping about on one foot as he held the injured one in his hand.
"See?" Orlando argued, pointing to Sean's foot to emphasize his point.
"Wot?!? Wot the bloody hell! Of course someone got hurt! Me! If you hadn't been....ow...ow...bloody well struggling with me, I wouldn't have dropped it! Oh, me foot," Sean whimpered while sitting down on the stairs. "Lad, what the fuck was that all about?”
And just as Sean was all set to berate him, the door opened and in walked Eric.
God, the man knew how to show up at just the right time.
Thankfully, this time the vision wasn't attacking Orlando.
"Hey! Since tonight is the last night of our freedom for the next few days, thought I'd...come...by," Eric words tapered off as he absorbed the scene before him. He took one look at the dripping form of Orlando. "Run out of water?" he snickered. Eric bent down to pick up the hammer that had fallen on the ground. "Did you drop this?"
"Don't pick it up!" Sean bellowed. "Orlando here is afraid we might hurt our poor, defenseless selves with the nasty, evil hammer," Sean snarked while he continued to rub his sore foot. "Of course, the nasty evil hammer had a little help from him. Ow."
Eric looked back at Orlando. "Orli? Did you hit Sean with the nasty, evil hammer?" he said in mock seriousness.
“No! Of course I didn’t bloody well hit Sean with the nasty, evil…oh!” Orlando yelled as it dawned on him that he actually did hit Sean.
“Actually, you did hit me, lad,” Sean maintained.
"Okay, well...I did," Orlando pouted, "but I didn't want him to get hurt."
"You didn't want him to get hurt with the hammer so you hit him with it? It's like I need a fucking GPS tracking device to follow Orli-logic," Eric said.
"Oh for the love of...!" Orlando grabbed the hammer out of Eric's hand and went stomping off up the stairs. "I'm taking this ruddy hammer with me to be safe, and then I'm finishing my shower!"
As he headed up the stairs, he could hear the two men whispering down below.
"You think he's utterly mad, don’cha?" Sean asked his friend quietly.
"I think you're both completely mad. And perfect for each other," Eric laughed.
Orlando entered the shower and started up the water again, the hammer on the counter. He finished rinsing himself off quickly, exited the shower and speedily dressed. He kept bringing the hammer everywhere with him. When he was done, he took the hammer, along with the nail that had gone flying earlier, and re-hung the picture, thereby finishing the job once and for all.
There, good as new.
As Orlando descended the stairs he realized that he had to come clean soon or he would find himself doing home repairs for Sean until the mystery was solved.
But of course, he couldn't talk to Sean now, because Eric was here.
Orlando sighed again, that same constriction gripping him around his chest like a vise, slowly closing in on him.
There would never be a ‘right time’ to tell Sean about his visions, especially since time itself was quickly running out.
"Sean, I fixed the picture. I'll put the hammer back," Orlando informed him as he held the tool up.
Both men backed up quickly, their hands in the air. "Be careful," Eric whispered, "he has a home repair device and he knows how to use it."
Orlando smirked, walked into the garage and put the offensive hammer away, running possible scenarios through his head as he took in the display of dangerous tools on Sean's work bench. What if he hangs the hammer up, only to have Sean come in to use his work bench, and while he’s there, an earthquake hits and the heavy tool falls off its hook and bashes him in the head?
But it hadn't looked like that.
It looked like...
It looked like someone had crushed his skull with it.
Feeling silly that he had overreacted to Sean holding the damn tool before, he made his way back into the main house where both men stood.
"I'm sorry about before...I can explain, yeah?" Orlando hesitated, wondering how he would even finish this train of thought with his lover.
And of course, Orlando was once again saved by an outside distraction when a knock was heard at the door.
"That must be my mates," Orlando said excitedly.
"Oh, this should be fun," Eric chuckled. "Can you imagine the type of people he hangs with?"
Sean sent Eric a silent ‘be nice’ glare’ over his shoulder before turning back to the door. As he opened it, a nervous, yet excited Orlando peered from behind him as he caught sight of Elijah, Dom and Billy on the front porch.
Elijah was holding a dog in his arms.
"Hello," Sean greeted.
There was a chorus of 'dudes' all the way around before Elijah implored, "this dog is kinda heavy...can we come in?"
"Of course, I'm sorry," Sean apologized as he stepped aside.
"Sean, Eric, this is Elijah, Dom and Billy," Orlando made the introductions.
Dominic appraised both a disheveled Sean and a freshly showered Orlando with a leering smile. "We didn't come at a bad time, did we?"
"Oh please, no bad jokes Dommie," Orlando sighed.
"What is that?" Sean asked as he pointed to the dog in Elijah's arms.
"That," Orlando said as he grabbed the dog from his friend, "is Snyder. Isn't he cute?"
Eric and Sean looked at the well rounded and apparently quite overweight Dachshund in Orlando’s arms. They followed its progress as Orlando set the dog on the ground.
"It looks like a walking foot stool," Eric mused as he continued to study the dog.
"Shhh," Orlando reprimanded as he covered the dog's ears. "He can hear you, you know. This is the best attack dog you could ever come across!"
"That thing?" Eric chuckled dubiously.
Both men watched as the dog waddled around in a tight circle and rested on its haunches, wagging his tail behind him.
"Look! He likes it here!" Elijah yelled excitedly.
"How can you bloody tell?" Sean muttered.
"By his tail, of course! And look! He just tilted his head. He likes you," Elijah beamed at Sean.
Sean looked down at the dog, the same expression on its face as before, only the dog's head did seem to tilt to one side.
"This is supposed to be an attack dog?" Eric laughed again.
"My uncle swears by him. He protected him all these long years," Elijah claimed in all seriousness.
"So where is your uncle now?" Sean asked.
"By looking at this dog, I'd have to say Snyder ate his uncle," Eric observed facetiously, while probing the dog’s rotund belly.
Elijah sighed. "He's in a nursing home now and they wouldn't let him keep his dog. Orli told me you were looking for a dog so I thought Snyder would be perfect!"
Everyone watched as Snyder sniffed at everything he came into contact with.
"He's not goin' to bloody pee on anything, yeah? Mark his territory or any ruddy thing like that, is he?" Sean asked nervously.
"No. He's just getting used to his environment. We should give him some private time," Elijah whispered.
"Oh!" Orlando snapped. "I'll put some newspaper down. He knows what to do when there's newspaper on the floor!"
Eric’s eyes cut to Sean. “Do I even want to know?” he questioned in a soft undertone that still managed to sound rather sarcastic.
“Well I have an idea, and I don’t think it’s because Snyder needs to know how the Dow Jones is doing in the Wall Street section,” Sean rasped back quietly.
Everyone followed Orlando into the kitchen, where he picked up the newspaper from earlier that day. He also quickly noticed that there was not a single piece of mail on the table.
Not one envelope, one bill, circular or anything that looked even vaguely postal-like.
Hadn't Denis said he knew Sean's name because of the mail on top of the kitchen table?
He didn't know why he needed to keep asking these questions. It was obvious that Denis had been there to kill Sean all along.
It was that simple.
Two and two were indeed adding up to four.
The young man quickly put some paper down on the floor in the corner, as well as a small bowl of water. "We can pick up his food later," Orlando remarked as he addressed Sean.
Everyone watched as Snyder made his way through the kitchen. Weaving his way between the men standing there, he waddled right up to the newspaper, squatted down and left a nice little deposit.
"Oh look! He loves it here!" Elijah bounced. "You know, he could only do that if he felt truly comfortable in his surroundings."
"So a walking ottoman goes poop in your kitchen and this is a good thing?" Eric asked Sean.
Orlando winced. Maybe he had overstepped his bounds with the dog. But damn! He was going to make sure Sean had protection when he couldn't be around.
"Sit, Snyder!" Elijah sternly commanded the dog. The dog sat and wagged its tail. "It's official. He sees this as his new home," the young man nodded.
Sean took one last look at the dog, the 'present' it left him and then walked to the refrigerator. "Anyone want a beer or something?" Sean called out.
"I'll have a pint!" Dom shouted. "But I don't like any Mexican or Canadian beer. And if it's Irish, it has to be Guinness. Domestic is good, as long as its not Bud. Might as well pee in a cup if you know what I mean."
Orlando watched carefully as Sean regarded Dominic warily.
"He's just taking the piss with you, mate," Billy nudged Sean's shoulder. "Give him whatever."
Once everyone had taken up residence around the kitchen, an uncomfortable silence descended down upon them.
Orlando wondered what the bloody hell he’d been thinking, bringing a dog into his lover’s house!
And as if that wasn't bad enough, subjecting him to Billy and Dommie.
Taking a sip from his long neck beer, Orlando felt the nerve-wracking silence continue to grow. In an effort to break the tension, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So, I didn’t see you sorry lot this weekend, anything new happen?”’
"Oi!" Billy interjected. "Dommie here went out on a date."
"With a woman?" Orlando asked, his brows furrowed.
"Well it wasn't with bleedin' Snyder!" Dominic yelled in outrage.
Everyone looked at the dog, who sat in the corner, watching them as he wagged his tail and cocked his head to the left.
"I don't think Snyder appreciated that comment," Elijah reproached the room in general.
"So a date, huh?" Orlando grinned.
Dominic’s smug smile was on display for all to see as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
"How'd that happen?" Orli asked.
"Oh please, let me tell the tale," Billy implored. "Please!"
If Billy wanted to relate the story, it must be good.
"So you see, we were at Lijah's work," Billy started, getting into ‘story-mode,’ as Orlando liked to call it.
"Oh, he works as a mortician," Orlando interrupted for the benefit of Sean and Eric. "Family business. They're quite good at it, really. You can...you know...go on," Orlando waved as he looked at Billy.
"I was just gonna tell them that!" the little Scotsman grumbled indignantly. "Anywho, we were eatin' lunch at his work station..."
"How can you do that? Eat lunch there...I mean...was he working on," Eric visibly swallowed, "someone? A body. A dead one?"
"Well they don't come to him alive. That would be sick!" Dommie yelled. "And yes, we eat lunch there all the time. 'S not like there's anyone there to bother you. It's pretty quiet. And there's lots of tables to set your food on," he nodded.
Eric paled considerably. "Please continue. I can't wait to hear the outcome of this. I mean, you are telling us the story of how he got a date,” and at this point, he nodded at Dom, “which seems to be a big deal from what I’ve heard so far, and you’re starting off by talking about being at his work,” he continued to rant as he pointed in Elijah’s direction. “Which deals solely in dead people…”
"Are you telling the bloody tale or am I?" Billy pouted.
"Thank you. So Lij is working on this dead guy." Billy looks pointedly at Eric, "and then his da comes in and says 'Yo, Elijah!'"
"Daddy never says 'yo,'" Elijah piped in.
"So he says, 'Elijah, I have somethin' special fer you.' And he lifts the cloth and do you know what it was?" Billy asked the quiet room.
"I'm gonna go with...I dunno," Eric said flippantly, "a dead guy?"
"He was a human meatball, that's what he was!" Billy exclaimed.
"Glad I didn't eat before this," Sean said, rubbing his stomach as if he were suddenly very queasy.
"You see, he was this foreman on a construction site. And do you know what happens when you accidentally fall off a high beam and through rebar?" Elijah asked innocently.
"Human meatball?" Eric responded, swallowing visibly.
"Yep," Elijah nodded.
He had seen worse.
Hell, he had seen worse just that afternoon.
"So Lij's da says, 'the client is willing to pay extra to get this guy back to looking like he did before he was mangled in the accident...'"
"Can you do that?" Eric asked Elijah incredulously, cutting Billy's story off.
"Actually yes, I can. I'm very good at reconstruction of the face. It involves plastics. I was hoping to use what I know to do work in Hollywood, but Daddy wanted me in the business," the young mortician sighed.
"So Elijah takes one look at the meatball and says 'Daddy!'" Billy exclaimed in a high falsetto.
"I do not sound like that!" Elijah yelled.
"Welcome to my world," Orlando droned resignedly as he rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Oi! Would you lot stop interrupting me every bleedin' minute!" Billy shouted. "Now where was I...oh yeah! So he says, 'Daddy! I can't do anything for him.' So they're arguing back and forth and I see the picture of the bloke before he died and I said, 'Mr. Wood! Mr. Wood!'"
"Okay, now why are ye making yer voice different?" Dominic stepped in. "It's your voice. It wouldn't be fucking any different!"
"Shhhh. So I says, 'Mr. Wood, is this the bloke?' And he says, 'why yes,'" Billy said in a deep baritone. "So I show the photo to Elijah and his da and Elijah's all like 'Fuck!' and Mr. Wood is like, 'language,' and then I show the picture to Dommie here."
Dominic nodded his head.
"So?" Orlando yelled in frustration. “Since we don’t have the bloody picture here now, what’s the significance?”
"So it's a bloody perfect likeness of guess who?" Billy asked the room in general.
"Elvis?" Eric interjected.
"Dommie, that's who!" Billy yelled. "It was Dommie. Only the nose was slightly smaller but I swear by all that is holy, it was the spitting image of Dom here."
Dominic nodded his head again, pointing to Billy, as if to confirm his statement.
"No!" Orlando exclaimed incredulously.
"Yep," Billy smiled.
"Okay, so this guy looks like your friend there. So what?! Were you able to mold the plastic to him?" Eric addressed his question to Elijah.
"Well the thing is," Elijah continued, “you can make someone look too plastic. It only works for certain parts of the face. Like a nose, or a chin or an ear. But a whole face...it just doesn't work and we request that the client just have a closed casket for the wake.”
"So," Billy picked up where he left off, "I says, 'why not use Dom?'"
"And that's how we ended up still having an open casket," Elijah nodded.
"Wait," Sean said, and Orlando noticed the tiny light bulb that had suddenly dinged on top of his head. His thankfully, at the moment, hammer-free head. "Am I understanding this correctly?" Sean asked, his brow furrowed.
"I think you are," Eric said as he paled further.
"All I had to do was make a slightly different nose for him and voila! Instant fully presentable dead body!" Elijah beamed.
"You had Dommie pretend to be your client's dead husband?!" Orlando shouted.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Billy murmured, his shoulders sagging guiltily.
"How many laws...do you know how much trouble you could get into?" Orlando stuttered, when the full implication of what his mates had done hit him.
"Oi! If posing as a dead body is against the law, then me first wife would have been incarcerated every time we had sex!" Billy protested feebly.
"You...you just...laid in a casket while everyone...paid their respects to you?" Eric asked incredulously, a smile forming at the side of his lips. "Dude! That is so whack! Fuckin’ A!" Eric laughed and high fived Dominic.
"It was, wasn't it?" Dominic grinned proudly.
"I stood watch over his body the entire time. I'd tap on the lid to let him know when someone was coming so he could hold his breath," Elijah quickly added.
"And it worked?" Sean inquired doubtfully. "I mean..."
"Oh it worked alright!" Elijah nodded his head. "His parents thanked me profusely for the fine job I had done and the wife, well, the wife..."
"Oh let me tell it!" Billy pleaded. "So the wife passes by Lij and she says, 'thank you,'" Billy said in a feminine voice. 'You've made everyone so happy here.' Then she slips him a piece of paper and she says, 'that's my mobile phone number. My private line. Please tell the gentleman in the casket I'd love to see him later tonight.'"
"Then she got this far away look in her eyes," Elijah continued with a grin, "and I could hear her mutter something about 'much larger hands,' under her breath."
Everyone stopped to look at Dominic before laughter erupted.
"She didn't?!" Sean exclaimed.
"Oh, she did!" Elijah nodded sagely.
"So is that the bird you went out with?" Sean asked.
"You got it. Oi! Don't look at me like that, Orli!" Dominic protested. "She was a real looker. And let me tell you. There's no better sex than a grieving widow." Dommie smiled as Eric high fived him again with another "Fuckin’ A!"
"She didn't sound like much of a grieving widow to me," Orlando contended with a small laugh.
"I think she was," Elijah argued. "Although, she did get a pretty nice insurance settlement out of the deal. I mean, when she came to see us about doing his body up right, she was driving a modest Toyota. But when she came to the wake, she was driving one of those new Mercedes. An S class!"
"I wonder if she somehow did him in so she could get her hands on the money," Eric pondered.
"I don't know, but she was married to someone who looked like me," Dominic shrugged, "and this was one choice looking woman. Do ye think it could've possibly been for love?"
Everyone snickered, looked at Dominic's hurt expression and then grew serious.
Then Dominic burst out laughing and everyone joined in again.
It looked like the introduction of his mates to his lover and his best friend had gone fairly well, all things considered.
After all, he didn't have to tell Sean that his friends were a bit odd. They had just proved that all by themselves. Quite conclusively.
Unless of course, posing as a dead body, and then winding up sleeping with the widow of the true deceased, is considered to be a natural occurrence in the everyday world. Considering the questionable morality of the entire situation, not to mention, the widow herself, Orlando highly doubted it.
Sean, he was relieved to notice, hadn’t seemed all that put off by his decidedly bizarre friends, or their escapades. It almost made him wish that Billy, employing all his usual tact, had accidentally blurted out about Orlando's gift.
It would have made things so much easier for him.
And just as he was thinking about how he could use that to his advantage, he gave a loud, involuntary yawn.
“It’s been a bit of a long day, hasn’t it, lad?” his lover whispered into his ear, his breath moistly caressing the sensitive lobe as he did so.
"Yeah, I should be going," Orlando shuddered. "Don't want to over stay my welcome."
Please ask me to stay. Please ask me to stay...
"I don't think you over staying your welcome could ever be possible," Sean winked. "Stay? For the night? I'll get you back home in the morning. Or to work. Whatever," he implored.
Well, if the man insisted…
"Okay," Orlando replied all too quickly.
Maybe they could talk.
Or maybe, just maybe, once they got up to that wonderfully warm and cozy bed, they would fuck like mad, ringing in round four, and then fall into a blissful and satiated slumber.
The latter was probably more likely.
Once Orlando had gotten rid of the last of Snyder's 'present' to Sean, and bid farewell to everyone, the lovers did indeed make their way up to that warm and cozy bed.
And they did indeed have another round of fabulous sex, taking extra care not to knock the headboard into the wall this time.
And they did indeed fall asleep soon after.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Orlando heard the distinct rustling of newspaper down in the kitchen.
Snyder had no doubt left another 'present' for Sean. He thought about getting up and taking care of it so that Sean wouldn’t have to face it in the morning, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself leave that warm and cozy bed. The bed where his handsome lover had spooned himself so tenderly around his slighter body, strong arms holding him securely to a muscular chest.
They would probably have to get a doggie door, Orlando mused as he slipped back into sleep.
Also, if you're interested, I wrote a snippet When you have to improvise, a Blurban ficlet based in this verse, that explains that comment Officer Urban made about fucking Orlando up against his car.
Feedback is your friend! :)