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moogingWhat happened here was that I had ridiculous and impassable writer's block since finishing my big bang this summer, and then I saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader and started toying around with a couple of fics, and then I wrote this whole thing this afternoon. BECAUSE THAT MAKES PERFECT SENSE.
also, I am aware that this song wasn't out when VODT was filming but ARTISTIC LICENSE, okay. and this is, idek, ridiculous in many, many ways.
SUPER FUN TO WRITE THOUGH.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
likecharity , this was written for you. <333 please ignore how this uses most of your good ideas and then a few of my own terrible ones
edit: apologies to anyone who saw this when lj ate the cut D:
Title: my judgement's getting kind of hazy
Fandom: Narnia RPF (yes, really)
Pairing: Ben/Skandar
Rating: ~pg-13 for language? maybe r for one word? idrk.
Word Count: ~2700
Disclaimer: NONE OF THIS REALLY HAPPENED, apologies to everyone involved, they all belong to themselves etc etc etc, the song belongs to Ke$ha and I am a terrible person.
Summary: Ben is acting weird. Weirder? Whatever. Something's going on, and Skandar doesn't know quite what to do about it.
"Maybe I need some rehab," Ben says, perched precariously on the helm of the Dawn Treader between takes. Michael keeps glaring at him, and either Ben is oblivious or is just ignoring him. Skandar would bet on the former, actually: Ben's been kind of in a weird mood for the last couple of days.
"... oookay?" says Skandar.
Will P. is giving Ben a look that suggests he is staying as far out of this as is humanly possible. Skandar thinks this is very wise. He also wishes that staying out of it was an option for him, but, sadly, Ben seems to have a way of dragging him into these things, no matter how hard Skandar tries to resist.
"Or maybe just need some sleep," Ben adds, thoughtfully.
There is a pause.
Then: "Oh," Georgie breathes, in sudden comprehension.
Ben nods maniacally at her, beaming.
"You've got a sick obsession," Georgie tells him, nodding happily back.
"Er?" Skandar says, starting to feel a bit worried, as surely any sane person would do when the words 'sick obsession' started to get used in connection with Ben Barnes. Will P., a beacon of sanity if ever there was one, has actually started to edge away from them all slightly.
"Well done that man," Skandar mutters, and sidles his way.
"On your mark, Skandar," Michael calls.
"I'm seeing it in my dreams," Ben announces, and Georgie laughs, and Skandar goes back to his mark and tries not to notice the way Ben's grin is starting to turn predatory around the edges.
/
"I'm walking down every alley, I'm making those desperate calls," Ben pops out of nowhere to inform Skandar the next day at the catering table. Skandar chokes on his sandwich and splutters cheese everywhere.
"What?"
"I'm staying up all night hoping, hitting my head against the wall," Ben continues.
"Clearly," Skandar grumbles.
Ben hands Skandar a napkin, salutes him, and walks dramatically away.
Will P. comes to stand next to Skandar and watches Ben go.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Skandar asks, not holding out much hope.
Will P. shakes his head. "Absolutely none," he says. "Sorry."
"It’s not your fault," Skandar says, wiping the cheese off his hands.
Will P. surveys the sandwiches in front of them. He looks at Skandar, who is still intermittently coughing up errant bits of cheese, apparently from his oesophagus, and pulls a face.
"Not cheese, then," he says.
"No," Skandar agrees. "Maybe tuna?"
/
Skandar does what he always does when something weird is going on and Tilda isn't around to ask: he asks Georgie.
Admittedly it can be slightly embarrassing to have to have things explained to him by a fourteen year old girl - well, all right, it would be if Georgie were any other fourteen year old girl, but apparently, despite having the appearance and sense of humour of a teenager, she secretly has the insight and wisdom of Yoda.
"George..." Skandar wheedles, sidling up to her as she leans on the side of the ship, "Georgie, what the hell is going on with Ben?"
She turns to look at him with a look of mild condescension, which is somewhat alarming, because, again: fourteen.
"Oh, Skandar," she says, patting him on the shoulder, which he watches her do with some trepidation, "haven't you figured it out yet?"
She walks off, leaving Skandar, confused and disgruntled, staring after her.
"Obviously not!" he yells at her back. "Or why would I be asking?"
She doesn't turn round, but it does make him feel slightly better.
/
Skandar is sitting in his trailer when Ben pokes his head round the door.
"What you've got, boy, is hard to find," he sings. "I think about it all the time."
Skandar doesn't know whether to be more worried about the fact that Ben now seems to have turned to song as a means of expression, or that the song lyrics could be termed mild harassment. He settles for slamming the door in Ben's face.
A small, hurt, "ow" comes from outside, followed by a hopeful sort of "I'm all strung out; my heart is fried?" before Skandar hears Ben walking away.
"What even," Skandar says, and, when this gets no response from his empty trailer, puts his head in his hands and groans.
/
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: HELP
Ben's gone weird and Georgie won't tell me why or what it means. You're about as mental as he is. HELP?
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: LIES
I am NOT as mental as Ben, how could you even say that, Skandar? I hope Ben is really driving you mad, just for that. And how can Ben have 'gone weird'? He's Ben.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skanderkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: you are a callous abandoner
THANKS FOR NOTHING, WILL.
Ben is singing at me.
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THAT?
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: SINGING?
Skandar, what? He's singing at you? Are you sure? What's he singing?
(You almost deserve Ben's singing for your flagrant abuse of the capslock key.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: who even says 'flagrant', honestly, Will
"What you've got, boy, is hard to find. I think about it all the time. I'm all strung out; my heart is fried."
WILL, WHAT DO I DO.
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: oh dear
That is quite alarming!
It's a song called - actually, Skandar, Skandalous, Skandie, I think you should just talk to Georgie.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: so helpful, William
I'm using your full name to convey the fullness of my disappointment.
I TRIED talking to Georgie, remember? And no way am I asking Tilda, so don't even suggest it.
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com, wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: sweetlikebinbons@hotmail.com
Subject: WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?
DON'T THINK THAT I CAN'T SEE YOU SENDING EMAILS ON YOUR PHONE, SKANDAR. I KNOW HOW TECHNOLOGY WORKS. HOW DO I TURN OFF THE CAPSLOCK ON THIS THING. HANG ON. WAit, oh, there it is.
Like I was saying, don't think I can't see you! I am everywhere, like the sun on a sunny day. Or the rain on a rainy day. There is no shade or shelter from Benito-the-weather!
Wait.
Maybe I'm like the air.
(hi, Will)
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: AUGH
AUGH
AUGH
AUGH
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: talk to Georgie
TALK TO GEORGIE
TALK
TO
GEORGIE
TALK TO GEORGIE
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: thanks for nothing
I hate you.
/
Skandar doesn't know why he ever thought asking Will for help would be a good idea.
/
When Skandar looks out of the window of his trailer, he sees Ben standing a few feet away, looking disconsolate. As soon as he notices Skandar gaping at him, Ben brightens and immediately belts out, "I JUST CAN'T GET YOU OFF MY MIND."
People walking by stare curiously at him, and then, even more curiously, at Skandar.
Skandar groans, and lets the blind fall back into place.
He's going to have to talk to Georgie again.
/
Skandar goes to Georgie's trailer this time, to prevent her from walking away in what she probably perceives as a cloud of mystery. Only 'cloud of mystery' just makes him think of Ben-the-weather-and/or-air, and he hammers slightly too hard on Georgie's door. The air is touching him all over: he feels vaguely violated.
Georgie throws the door open. "What?" she starts, tetchily, but then she sees Skandar, and presumably also sees the way he is futilely trying not to let the air touch him (a losing battle, but one he's determined to fight) and her expression softens. "Hello," she says. "Do you want to come - "
"THE AIR IS GROPING ME," Skandar yelps, hearing the hysteria in his own voice but unable to stop it. "MAKE IT STOP GROPING ME."
" - in?" Georgie finishes, lamely, and steps aside to let him pass her in the doorway.
She closes the door behind Skandar with a disturbingly maternal air for someone that much younger than him. "What can I do for - "
"Georgie, Ben keeps singing at me and I don't know what he's singing or why he's singing it or how to make him stop, and I asked Will and Will said to ask you but I said I'd already asked you and then Ben was the weather and the air and Will said I definitely had to ask you, so I'm asking you what he's doing and why he's doing it, and now the air is giving me bad touches and you have to help me."
The time for dignity has clearly passed, Skandar thinks.
" - you," Georgie trails off. She pats the side of her bed. "Sit down, Skandar," she says, calmly, and Skandar does, less because she told him to than because he's already feeling pretty pathetic.
"Skandar, the thing is - "
"Help me," he groans, into his hands, not really listening.
"I will if you'll stop interrupting me," Georgie tells him, raising an eyebrow. Skandar wonders when she got quite so grown up. He looks up at her with contrition.
"The thing is, Skandar," Georgie says, gently sitting down next to him (and Skandar is starting to feel mildly alarmed by how often she's using his name), "well, the thing is, um - Ben's serenading you."
There is an understandable pause.
"I'm sorry," Skandar says, eventually, "could you say that again? I think I must have just hallucinated."
"Ben's been serenading you," Georgie repeats, and then her whole face softens so completely that Skandar, who is admittedly not in the most stable state of mind, wonders briefly if it could melt right off her head. It doesn't. Georgie, unaware of the face-melting danger she's just survived, continues, in a slightly dreamy tone, "He likes you."
"I know he likes me," Skandar snaps. "We're friends. What I want to know is: why does he keep singing at me?"
Georgie takes one of his hands in hers. "No, you goon. He likes you." She draws out the i significantly. He liiiiiikes you.
"I know," Skandar repeats, annoyed, "but why is he - " He stops. Full understanding has finally, inevitably, smacked him in the face. "Oh," he says, in a very small voice.
Georgie pats his hand sympathetically. "There, there," she says. "At least you like him too."
At least you liiiiiike him too.
"No, I don't," Skandar blurts, colour rising in his cheeks. He snatches his hand away.
Georgie tilts her head to one side and looks at him for a long moment. "Skandar," she says, in a no-nonsense sort of way (and there's his name again, and, seriously: fourteen), "You really do."
He starts to protest, but she shushes him.
"Just - think about it," she says.
Skandar thinks about it.
He thinks about Ben singing alarming songs at him whenever he lets his guard down. He thinks about "rehearsing" swordfights in between takes, Ben grinning and darting about the deck. He thinks about teasing Ben about his beard brush, about the sick horror when he caught Ben three times with the sword, about the way Ben leans in close enough to make Skandar shiver at the beginning of a take to say "don't mess up" and his bright, cheerful laughter when Skandar inevitably does, and - oh.
"Oh," Skandar says, because it's really the only thing he can think of, and then again, more miserably, "Oh."
He flops back properly onto Georgie's bed and pulls a pillow over his face. "This is so embarrassing."
Georgie lets him wallow for a bit and then pats his knee encouragingly. "Cheer up," she says. "At least you know he likes you back."
He liiiiikes you. That's getting annoying, but Skandar lets it go because she is only fourteen after all.
"Hang on," Skandar exclaims, sitting bolt upright so fast that the pillow flies up and lands on the floor. "Ben's a grown man. Why is he serenading me?"
Georgie looks at him with a sort of kindly pity so similar to Tilda's that Skandar would swear she's been taking lessons. "Skandar," she says, and, god, what is it about this conversation that makes her want to use his name six billion times? "Skandar, he's Ben."
Skandar lets this sink in.
"Oh god," he groans, when it finally does. "I like Ben."
He puts his head in his hands again, mostly out of shame.
"But he's ten years older than me," he mutters. "And male."
"He's also serenading you," Georgie rightly points out, squeezing his shoulders. "I think it'll work out."
"But how," Skandar starts, and then tries instead, "How do I," but that doesn't work either, and he ends up with an incredibly infantile, "What do I doooo?" which gets his point across but doesn't make him feel especially manly.
Georgie gets up and grabs her iPod. "Here," she says, offering him an earbud. "I think it's time you heard this."
/
Typical. Ben's been following him around all week like the minstrel in the Blackadder credits and now, when Skandar is actively looking for him, he's nowhere to be found. He's tried the set (not filming), the catering table (no-one's seen him), and his trailer (no answer), and still nothing. Red from exertion and the cringing anticipation of imminent embarrassment, Skandar is on the verge of giving up when he rounds the corner to his own trailer and, of course, there is Ben, sitting on the steps. He jumps to his feet when he sees Skandar.
"Skandar, I - " he says, in his own, non-singing voice, looking as serious as Ben ever gets, but Skandar holds a hand out to stop him.
"Wait," he says. "I want to say something and if you start talking now I'll lose my nerve, so. Please?"
Ben mimes zipping his lips, and Skandar rolls his eyes.
His heart is thumping painfully in his chest, and he's dry-mouthed with apprehension, and his face is still bright red, and, oh god, here goes nothing.
"Because your love, your love, your love is my drug," he sings, shakily and horrendously out of tune, "your love, your love, your love. I said your love, your love, your love is my drug, your love, your love, your love."
Ben is watching him avidly, a slow, irrepressible grin starting to sneak across his face.
Skandar continues, feeling more than a bit like a twat, "Won't listen to any advice - mmph."
Blessedly, he is prevented from continuing by the simple fact that Ben rather forcefully presses his mouth over Skandar's lips and kisses him. Skandar sort of groans into it, and unashamedly grabs Ben's hips, and then tangles a hand in Ben's ridiculous girly hair, and Ben has one hand at the small of Skandar's back and the other, slightly presumptively, edging its way round to the front of Skandar's jeans.
Something chooses this moment to occur to Skandar, and he pulls away, breathless. "You bastard," he laughs, still hanging on to Ben's hips. "You made me sing the whole chorus."
Ben laughs too. His eyes sort of crinkle up when he smiles, Skandar notices, and he is immediately granted a vaguely nauseating premonition of thinking numerous soppy and unnecessary things like that in the near future. Luckily, before he can get too worried about it, Ben speaks up and stops that line of thought in its tracks.
"So," he says, and his voice is suddenly more Dorian Gray than King Caspian, "do you want to have a slumber party in my basement?"
"No, because that makes you sound like a serial killer," Skandar tells him, frankly. He eyes him as wickedly as he can manage with his heart still pounding like that. "But your trailer will do."
As they walk off, even though he will vehemently deny it in all versions of this story that Ben will gleefully recap in the future, Skandar can be heard to say, softly, "I like your beard."
/
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: (none)
OF COURSE YOU WOULD KNOW THAT SONG, YOU GIRL
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: no need to thank me or anything, don't worry
you're welcome.
*
IDEK, OKAY.
also, I am aware that this song wasn't out when VODT was filming but ARTISTIC LICENSE, okay. and this is, idek, ridiculous in many, many ways.
SUPER FUN TO WRITE THOUGH.
likecharity , this was written for you. <333 please ignore how this uses most of your good ideas and then a few of my own terrible ones edit: apologies to anyone who saw this when lj ate the cut D:
Title: my judgement's getting kind of hazy
Fandom: Narnia RPF (yes, really)
Pairing: Ben/Skandar
Rating: ~pg-13 for language? maybe r for one word? idrk.
Word Count: ~2700
Disclaimer: NONE OF THIS REALLY HAPPENED, apologies to everyone involved, they all belong to themselves etc etc etc, the song belongs to Ke$ha and I am a terrible person.
Summary: Ben is acting weird. Weirder? Whatever. Something's going on, and Skandar doesn't know quite what to do about it.
"Maybe I need some rehab," Ben says, perched precariously on the helm of the Dawn Treader between takes. Michael keeps glaring at him, and either Ben is oblivious or is just ignoring him. Skandar would bet on the former, actually: Ben's been kind of in a weird mood for the last couple of days.
"... oookay?" says Skandar.
Will P. is giving Ben a look that suggests he is staying as far out of this as is humanly possible. Skandar thinks this is very wise. He also wishes that staying out of it was an option for him, but, sadly, Ben seems to have a way of dragging him into these things, no matter how hard Skandar tries to resist.
"Or maybe just need some sleep," Ben adds, thoughtfully.
There is a pause.
Then: "Oh," Georgie breathes, in sudden comprehension.
Ben nods maniacally at her, beaming.
"You've got a sick obsession," Georgie tells him, nodding happily back.
"Er?" Skandar says, starting to feel a bit worried, as surely any sane person would do when the words 'sick obsession' started to get used in connection with Ben Barnes. Will P., a beacon of sanity if ever there was one, has actually started to edge away from them all slightly.
"Well done that man," Skandar mutters, and sidles his way.
"On your mark, Skandar," Michael calls.
"I'm seeing it in my dreams," Ben announces, and Georgie laughs, and Skandar goes back to his mark and tries not to notice the way Ben's grin is starting to turn predatory around the edges.
/
"I'm walking down every alley, I'm making those desperate calls," Ben pops out of nowhere to inform Skandar the next day at the catering table. Skandar chokes on his sandwich and splutters cheese everywhere.
"What?"
"I'm staying up all night hoping, hitting my head against the wall," Ben continues.
"Clearly," Skandar grumbles.
Ben hands Skandar a napkin, salutes him, and walks dramatically away.
Will P. comes to stand next to Skandar and watches Ben go.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Skandar asks, not holding out much hope.
Will P. shakes his head. "Absolutely none," he says. "Sorry."
"It’s not your fault," Skandar says, wiping the cheese off his hands.
Will P. surveys the sandwiches in front of them. He looks at Skandar, who is still intermittently coughing up errant bits of cheese, apparently from his oesophagus, and pulls a face.
"Not cheese, then," he says.
"No," Skandar agrees. "Maybe tuna?"
/
Skandar does what he always does when something weird is going on and Tilda isn't around to ask: he asks Georgie.
Admittedly it can be slightly embarrassing to have to have things explained to him by a fourteen year old girl - well, all right, it would be if Georgie were any other fourteen year old girl, but apparently, despite having the appearance and sense of humour of a teenager, she secretly has the insight and wisdom of Yoda.
"George..." Skandar wheedles, sidling up to her as she leans on the side of the ship, "Georgie, what the hell is going on with Ben?"
She turns to look at him with a look of mild condescension, which is somewhat alarming, because, again: fourteen.
"Oh, Skandar," she says, patting him on the shoulder, which he watches her do with some trepidation, "haven't you figured it out yet?"
She walks off, leaving Skandar, confused and disgruntled, staring after her.
"Obviously not!" he yells at her back. "Or why would I be asking?"
She doesn't turn round, but it does make him feel slightly better.
/
Skandar is sitting in his trailer when Ben pokes his head round the door.
"What you've got, boy, is hard to find," he sings. "I think about it all the time."
Skandar doesn't know whether to be more worried about the fact that Ben now seems to have turned to song as a means of expression, or that the song lyrics could be termed mild harassment. He settles for slamming the door in Ben's face.
A small, hurt, "ow" comes from outside, followed by a hopeful sort of "I'm all strung out; my heart is fried?" before Skandar hears Ben walking away.
"What even," Skandar says, and, when this gets no response from his empty trailer, puts his head in his hands and groans.
/
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: HELP
Ben's gone weird and Georgie won't tell me why or what it means. You're about as mental as he is. HELP?
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: LIES
I am NOT as mental as Ben, how could you even say that, Skandar? I hope Ben is really driving you mad, just for that. And how can Ben have 'gone weird'? He's Ben.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skanderkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: you are a callous abandoner
THANKS FOR NOTHING, WILL.
Ben is singing at me.
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THAT?
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: SINGING?
Skandar, what? He's singing at you? Are you sure? What's he singing?
(You almost deserve Ben's singing for your flagrant abuse of the capslock key.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: who even says 'flagrant', honestly, Will
"What you've got, boy, is hard to find. I think about it all the time. I'm all strung out; my heart is fried."
WILL, WHAT DO I DO.
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: oh dear
That is quite alarming!
It's a song called - actually, Skandar, Skandalous, Skandie, I think you should just talk to Georgie.
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: so helpful, William
I'm using your full name to convey the fullness of my disappointment.
I TRIED talking to Georgie, remember? And no way am I asking Tilda, so don't even suggest it.
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com, wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: sweetlikebinbons@hotmail.com
Subject: WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?
DON'T THINK THAT I CAN'T SEE YOU SENDING EMAILS ON YOUR PHONE, SKANDAR. I KNOW HOW TECHNOLOGY WORKS. HOW DO I TURN OFF THE CAPSLOCK ON THIS THING. HANG ON. WAit, oh, there it is.
Like I was saying, don't think I can't see you! I am everywhere, like the sun on a sunny day. Or the rain on a rainy day. There is no shade or shelter from Benito-the-weather!
Wait.
Maybe I'm like the air.
(hi, Will)
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: AUGH
AUGH
AUGH
AUGH
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: talk to Georgie
TALK TO GEORGIE
TALK
TO
GEORGIE
TALK TO GEORGIE
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: thanks for nothing
I hate you.
/
Skandar doesn't know why he ever thought asking Will for help would be a good idea.
/
When Skandar looks out of the window of his trailer, he sees Ben standing a few feet away, looking disconsolate. As soon as he notices Skandar gaping at him, Ben brightens and immediately belts out, "I JUST CAN'T GET YOU OFF MY MIND."
People walking by stare curiously at him, and then, even more curiously, at Skandar.
Skandar groans, and lets the blind fall back into place.
He's going to have to talk to Georgie again.
/
Skandar goes to Georgie's trailer this time, to prevent her from walking away in what she probably perceives as a cloud of mystery. Only 'cloud of mystery' just makes him think of Ben-the-weather-and/or-air, and he hammers slightly too hard on Georgie's door. The air is touching him all over: he feels vaguely violated.
Georgie throws the door open. "What?" she starts, tetchily, but then she sees Skandar, and presumably also sees the way he is futilely trying not to let the air touch him (a losing battle, but one he's determined to fight) and her expression softens. "Hello," she says. "Do you want to come - "
"THE AIR IS GROPING ME," Skandar yelps, hearing the hysteria in his own voice but unable to stop it. "MAKE IT STOP GROPING ME."
" - in?" Georgie finishes, lamely, and steps aside to let him pass her in the doorway.
She closes the door behind Skandar with a disturbingly maternal air for someone that much younger than him. "What can I do for - "
"Georgie, Ben keeps singing at me and I don't know what he's singing or why he's singing it or how to make him stop, and I asked Will and Will said to ask you but I said I'd already asked you and then Ben was the weather and the air and Will said I definitely had to ask you, so I'm asking you what he's doing and why he's doing it, and now the air is giving me bad touches and you have to help me."
The time for dignity has clearly passed, Skandar thinks.
" - you," Georgie trails off. She pats the side of her bed. "Sit down, Skandar," she says, calmly, and Skandar does, less because she told him to than because he's already feeling pretty pathetic.
"Skandar, the thing is - "
"Help me," he groans, into his hands, not really listening.
"I will if you'll stop interrupting me," Georgie tells him, raising an eyebrow. Skandar wonders when she got quite so grown up. He looks up at her with contrition.
"The thing is, Skandar," Georgie says, gently sitting down next to him (and Skandar is starting to feel mildly alarmed by how often she's using his name), "well, the thing is, um - Ben's serenading you."
There is an understandable pause.
"I'm sorry," Skandar says, eventually, "could you say that again? I think I must have just hallucinated."
"Ben's been serenading you," Georgie repeats, and then her whole face softens so completely that Skandar, who is admittedly not in the most stable state of mind, wonders briefly if it could melt right off her head. It doesn't. Georgie, unaware of the face-melting danger she's just survived, continues, in a slightly dreamy tone, "He likes you."
"I know he likes me," Skandar snaps. "We're friends. What I want to know is: why does he keep singing at me?"
Georgie takes one of his hands in hers. "No, you goon. He likes you." She draws out the i significantly. He liiiiiikes you.
"I know," Skandar repeats, annoyed, "but why is he - " He stops. Full understanding has finally, inevitably, smacked him in the face. "Oh," he says, in a very small voice.
Georgie pats his hand sympathetically. "There, there," she says. "At least you like him too."
At least you liiiiiike him too.
"No, I don't," Skandar blurts, colour rising in his cheeks. He snatches his hand away.
Georgie tilts her head to one side and looks at him for a long moment. "Skandar," she says, in a no-nonsense sort of way (and there's his name again, and, seriously: fourteen), "You really do."
He starts to protest, but she shushes him.
"Just - think about it," she says.
Skandar thinks about it.
He thinks about Ben singing alarming songs at him whenever he lets his guard down. He thinks about "rehearsing" swordfights in between takes, Ben grinning and darting about the deck. He thinks about teasing Ben about his beard brush, about the sick horror when he caught Ben three times with the sword, about the way Ben leans in close enough to make Skandar shiver at the beginning of a take to say "don't mess up" and his bright, cheerful laughter when Skandar inevitably does, and - oh.
"Oh," Skandar says, because it's really the only thing he can think of, and then again, more miserably, "Oh."
He flops back properly onto Georgie's bed and pulls a pillow over his face. "This is so embarrassing."
Georgie lets him wallow for a bit and then pats his knee encouragingly. "Cheer up," she says. "At least you know he likes you back."
He liiiiikes you. That's getting annoying, but Skandar lets it go because she is only fourteen after all.
"Hang on," Skandar exclaims, sitting bolt upright so fast that the pillow flies up and lands on the floor. "Ben's a grown man. Why is he serenading me?"
Georgie looks at him with a sort of kindly pity so similar to Tilda's that Skandar would swear she's been taking lessons. "Skandar," she says, and, god, what is it about this conversation that makes her want to use his name six billion times? "Skandar, he's Ben."
Skandar lets this sink in.
"Oh god," he groans, when it finally does. "I like Ben."
He puts his head in his hands again, mostly out of shame.
"But he's ten years older than me," he mutters. "And male."
"He's also serenading you," Georgie rightly points out, squeezing his shoulders. "I think it'll work out."
"But how," Skandar starts, and then tries instead, "How do I," but that doesn't work either, and he ends up with an incredibly infantile, "What do I doooo?" which gets his point across but doesn't make him feel especially manly.
Georgie gets up and grabs her iPod. "Here," she says, offering him an earbud. "I think it's time you heard this."
/
Typical. Ben's been following him around all week like the minstrel in the Blackadder credits and now, when Skandar is actively looking for him, he's nowhere to be found. He's tried the set (not filming), the catering table (no-one's seen him), and his trailer (no answer), and still nothing. Red from exertion and the cringing anticipation of imminent embarrassment, Skandar is on the verge of giving up when he rounds the corner to his own trailer and, of course, there is Ben, sitting on the steps. He jumps to his feet when he sees Skandar.
"Skandar, I - " he says, in his own, non-singing voice, looking as serious as Ben ever gets, but Skandar holds a hand out to stop him.
"Wait," he says. "I want to say something and if you start talking now I'll lose my nerve, so. Please?"
Ben mimes zipping his lips, and Skandar rolls his eyes.
His heart is thumping painfully in his chest, and he's dry-mouthed with apprehension, and his face is still bright red, and, oh god, here goes nothing.
"Because your love, your love, your love is my drug," he sings, shakily and horrendously out of tune, "your love, your love, your love. I said your love, your love, your love is my drug, your love, your love, your love."
Ben is watching him avidly, a slow, irrepressible grin starting to sneak across his face.
Skandar continues, feeling more than a bit like a twat, "Won't listen to any advice - mmph."
Blessedly, he is prevented from continuing by the simple fact that Ben rather forcefully presses his mouth over Skandar's lips and kisses him. Skandar sort of groans into it, and unashamedly grabs Ben's hips, and then tangles a hand in Ben's ridiculous girly hair, and Ben has one hand at the small of Skandar's back and the other, slightly presumptively, edging its way round to the front of Skandar's jeans.
Something chooses this moment to occur to Skandar, and he pulls away, breathless. "You bastard," he laughs, still hanging on to Ben's hips. "You made me sing the whole chorus."
Ben laughs too. His eyes sort of crinkle up when he smiles, Skandar notices, and he is immediately granted a vaguely nauseating premonition of thinking numerous soppy and unnecessary things like that in the near future. Luckily, before he can get too worried about it, Ben speaks up and stops that line of thought in its tracks.
"So," he says, and his voice is suddenly more Dorian Gray than King Caspian, "do you want to have a slumber party in my basement?"
"No, because that makes you sound like a serial killer," Skandar tells him, frankly. He eyes him as wickedly as he can manage with his heart still pounding like that. "But your trailer will do."
As they walk off, even though he will vehemently deny it in all versions of this story that Ben will gleefully recap in the future, Skandar can be heard to say, softly, "I like your beard."
/
To: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
From: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
Subject: (none)
OF COURSE YOU WOULD KNOW THAT SONG, YOU GIRL
To: skandarkeynes91@gmail.com
From: wilmo-mo-mizzle@hotmail.com
Subject: no need to thank me or anything, don't worry
you're welcome.
*
IDEK, OKAY.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-16 03:18 am (UTC)