Billy drums his fingers impatiently on the ticket counter as the airline employee types in his information. "Are you sure you're reserved for first class, Mr. Boyd?" she asks in a sugary-sweet voice.
"Yes. The reservations have been in place for four weeks," he tells her, trying not to focus on her absurdly extravagant makeup.
As the woman looks back at her monitor, Billy scans the crowds around him, hoping to find the mystery man he's supposed to be accompanying. Orlando Bloom. It's not as if Billy knows what he looks like, but still, he glances at the faces anyway, hoping for some telltale sign, like a tattoo that says, "hi, I'm Orlando Bloom." No such luck.
Just then, he spies a tall and slender young man with dark hair and brown eyes. 'He looks elf-like,' Billy thinks to himself. Of course, he's never personally seen an elf, but something about the features and his graceful manner catches his eye.
"Alright, Mr. Boyd, you're all set," the woman tells him, breaking his train of thought. "Sorry for the delay."
"No problem." Grabbing his ticket, Billy walks quickly to the young man and taps him on the arm.
"You wouldn't happen to be Orlando Bloom, would you?" he asks, feeling slightly idiotic.
"Billy!" the young man exults, throwing his arms around him.
"Um, is that a yes?" Billy asks, slightly startled, but not uncomfortable.
"Yes, sorry," Orlando laughs, pulling back and smiling at him. "Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous, and it's a real relief to meet someone."
Billy finds himself smiling back; Orlando's grin is contagious. "Yeah, what an adventure we're about to embark on, eh?"
"I know," Orlando says, his eyes wide with excitement. "I can't believe I'm going from being an anonymous drama student to Legolas Greenleaf."
"Do you have your ticket ready?"
"All set, mate. You?"
"Ready for action."
*****
"First class, man, this is something a boy could get used to," Orlando says as he leans back in his spacious seat.
"Your turn to ask me something," Billy says as he munches on some candy he brought with him.
"Hmm. What can I ask you?" Orlando thinks for a minute, before grinning again. "What's your birthday? Mine's January 13th."
"Actually, it's today."
"No shit!"
"Seriously," Billy laughs.
"Miss!" Orlando calls as the flight attendant walks by. "Can we get some champagne? It's my mate's birthday."
"Of course, sir," the young woman says, smiling. "I'll be right back."
"You didn't have to do that, Orlando," Billy says, his face a bit red. "It's no big deal."
"Like hell it's not. You only celebrate once a year. So, how old?"
"Thirty, though I'd prefer not to think about that."
"Don't be daft, Billy. You don't look a day over twenty-nine."
Billy laughs. "Thanks." The flight attendant returns with two glasses of champagne.
"Happy birthday, sir."
"Oh, thank you."
"Cheers," Orlando says, and they clink their glasses together. "Wow, that's good champagne," he marvels. "I guess this is the movie star treatment package."
"I don't think we're movie stars quite yet."
"Ssh, don't burst my bubble," Orlando whispers.
All Billy can do is giggle.
*****
"More champagne?" Billy asks incredulously. "Didn't we have enough on the flight from Heathrow?"
"When's the next time we get free champagne?" Orlando asks, and Billy has to admit his reasoning is sound.
Several minutes after takeoff, Orlando gets up for the bathroom. "It's flowing through me fast," he explains. Despite the absence of turbulence, he falls into Billy's lap, sitting there a second longer than necessary before standing up and walking down the aisle. Billy can feel his face heating up from the close contact, and he frowns. Christ, it's not like he's gay or anything.
"Better?" he asks when Orlando returns.
"Much." This time, Orlando's leg brushes a bit against Billy's crotch as he climbs over him. To Billy's horror, his body starts reacting from the contact. He quickly grabs the airline blanket and throws it over his lap.
"Maybe I should take a nap," he says, stammering a bit.
"Sure. You okay?"
"Just tired. I'm sure the champagne isn't helping."
"Gotcha. Actually, a nap sounds good." Orlando reaches for his own blanket, and leans back against the seat, letting his eyes flutter close.
"Right. Nap," Billy says to himself. He must be tired. Why else would his body be fucking with him like this?"
Only seconds after Billy closes his eyes, he hears Orlando shift in his seat, and then a warm hand, *Orlando's* hand sneaks under Billy's blanket, settling on his thigh. To his great relief, Billy restrains himself from squeaking or yelping. Orlando slowly and gently strokes Billy's thigh through his khakis.
"Orlando?" Billy asks, his face flushed. No answer. "Orlando?" This time, Billy shakes the other man gently, but the only response he gets is a lazy smirk. Bastard. Billy smacks Orlando on the forehead.
"Want me to stop?" Orlando asks, his voice low.
"Yes."
"You're lying. I can tell." To demonstrate his point, Orlando's hand moves to the erection Billy didn't even know he had, and closes over it, squeezing gently. Billy nearly rockets off the seat in surprise, but Orlando simply unzips the khakis and slides down the elastic of Billy's boxers. The Scotsman is curious as to how Orlando got to be so smooth in these movements, but he realizes now is probably not the time to ask.
Rational thought is cut off as Orlando begins stroking him in languorous movements, smearing Billy's pre-cum on his hand to ease the task. Billy shuts his eyes tight, beyond caring about whether or not this is a good idea, and the broader implications about his own sexuality. He wants this to last longer, but it's been a while since anyone else has done this to him, and when Orlando's thumb idly flicks over the head while his other hand – and where did *that* come from – strokes his balls, Billy's coming all over Orlando's hand, muffling his groan by biting on a pillow.
Orlando pulls away from Billy, wiping his hand on the underside of his own blanket, and Billy hastily puts his clothes back in order, relieved that nothing has spilled in an awkward place. Looking over at Orlando, he can tell that the younger man is drifting off to sleep.
"Orlando?" he whispers.
"Happy birthday, mate," Orlando mumbles tiredly.
And Billy doesn't know what else he can say.
*****
That's the only time Billy and Orlando have any kind of sex. The first time they meet, on a plane, on Billy's birthday. After that, nothing. Which is fine with Billy; he doesn't want Orlando to be a fuck-buddy or a fling. They become close, extremely close, and it's two years before the plane incident is mentioned.
The entire group is assembled in Wellington for the Fellowship premiere, and, Elijah's boasting about the fact he just joined the mile high club.
"I can't believe you, Elijah," Sean Astin is saying.
"I didn't think people actually *had* sex on airplanes," Dom says. "I thought it was an urban myth or something."
"I once gave a hand-job on an airplane," Orlando volunteers. Billy's ears turn red. "It was cool; I'd do it again."
"What, you wanked a stranger?" Dom laughs. "Just some random guy sitting next to you?"
"Nah, I knew him."
"Was it Atti?" Viggo asks, his curiosity piqued.
"None of your business, you perverted poet."
"Actually, it was me," Billy announces. After all, these are his friends, so who gives a fuck?
A moment of silence passes, which is broken by Elijah dissolving into giggles. "Yeah, right."
"What, don't believe me?"
"Billy, you're straighter than *I* am," says Sean.
This makes everyone laugh, including Orlando. "Seriously, Billy, an elf doesn't do interspecies wanking."
Billy laughs. "Just thought I'd see if anyone would buy it," he lies.
"It was a good try," Ian says.
As the conversation shifts gears, Billy can feel Orlando looking at
him. And smirking. As he looks at his co-star, Billy grins
widely. And winks.
