FIC: "Unfinished Business" 1/1 (HS/AS) R
Jan. 5th, 2003 07:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321Happy birthday, dearest Brenda aka ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
azewewish! This one's all for you, *mwah*.
Title: Unfinished Business
Part: 1/1
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/
Pairing: Harry Sinclair / Andy Serkis
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Andy get stuck in the sky.
Feedback: Yes, please, I would love feedback! Anything, even if it's only one line, one word!
Content/Warnings: RPS.
Spoilers: None.
Archive Rights: Beyond the Fellowship. My niche. Anyone else, please just ask.
Disclaimers: This is a work of amateur fiction. I do not know these people. I am not making money. The events described in this story did not happen.
Author's Notes: Happy birthday, dear Brenda! With thanks for all the wonderful stories I've read of yours over the past year, for introducing me to deliciousness beyond the Fellowship and for making me think beyond words. *hugs and kisses*
Three pics to go with the story: Go here and scroll down.
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One Saturday, Harry found himself in a car with an unlikely group of people.
He'd been invited along to go up Mt Ruapehu in Tongariro National Park by Hugo. Hugo had been invited along by Orli, and Orli had been invited along by Lij and Sean Astin who'd wanted to take little Alexandra to see some snow. Sean, in turn, had roped in Andy Serkis, and Harry, considering this collection of people most of whom he barely knew, had roped in his old mate Karl. And then Hugo had dropped out, and Lij had fallen ill, so now Harry sat in a car with a motley bunch of guys, winding his way up a serpentine road.
Harry drove because he'd signed the car-hire agreement. Another five people could just about be squashed into one Peugeot 505 for the ride. Because Sean insisted that his daughter wear a proper safety-belt, Karl and Orli sat on each other's laps in the back. They were alternately being nice uncles, making Alexandra squeal, and squealing themselves, falling into each other with every curve and sharing insider Rohan-jokes.
Harry smiled contentedly. It was a glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky. They were going to go up a mountain; there was going to be a spectacular view from above; he had a day off; and getting to know people better was always nice.
Andy sat next to Harry in the front passenger seat. He seemed pleasant enough, if a tad quiet by contrast. Well, the backseat brigade made up for it with enough raucousness to fill a circus tent.
Indeed, everything was extremely pleasant right up to the moment they turned into the car park and everyone piled onto the blacktop. Harry stood and looked at the Swiss-chalet style building and the line of pylons climbing its way up the hillside.
"What's this?" he said, suspicion dawning.
"Chairlift, of course," said Sean, letting himself be pulled along by an excited Alexandra.
"What do you mean, chairlift?" said Harry. "I thought we were going up in a funicular."
"What's a funicular?" asked Orli.
"You know, a kind of train," said Harry. "On wheels. A proper vehicle, attached to the ground. Not some dreadful hanging-in-the-sky thing."
"It's a cable railway," said Sean. "But what on earth made you think there was one of those up here?"
"This is skiing territory, mate," said Karl. "You knew that."
"I'm not going on any chairlift," said Harry. "No way am I going on any chairlift."
"Yes, you are," said Karl.
"Come on," said Orli.
"I'll wait down here for you," said Harry. "I don't like the things. I'll have a coffee or something."
Immediately, a chorus of protest rose up, intermingled with the usual well-meaning but misplaced reassurances of those not afraid of heights. "You'll have fun, you'll see." "It's only a short ride." "It's perfectly safe." "Don't be a spoilsport." "Get a grip." "We might want to stay up there for hours."
"Come on, Harry," said Karl and touched Harry on the arm. "I'll sit with you and hold your hand."
So, before Harry quite knew what had hit him, he had been pressured into agreeing, a ticket was thrust into his hand, and he was waiting in the queue next to Karl. An attendant punched a number on their tickets, said "Two to a chair" and ushered them along. The individual chairs clanked around an oval turnaround rail, were briefly stopped by the attendant but basically had to be mounted on the trot. Sean went first with his girl, Harry held onto Karl's sleeve but lost his nerve at the last moment, the chair drifted away, Orli flung himself into the empty seat, and they sailed away into the bright blue sky.
"Shit, Karl, wait!" shouted Harry but that was totally ineffectual, of course.
Already the attendant was hustling him towards the next chair. Harry looked around in a panic when he felt his arm gripped by an authoritative hand: Andy's hand. Andy shoved him into the seat, jumped in beside him, the attendant clinked the bar across their laps shut, and they were off.
The lift swayed and creaked and swung out across the incline. Harry could just make out Karl in the lift ahead, lifting his arms in a comic sorry-mate-how-could-I-help-it gesture. Laughter rang across.
"Right," said Harry and gripped the cross bar.
"You're really uncomfortable with this, aren't you?" said Andy.
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry and took a deep breath. "I'll be okay. It's not a long ride, after all."
"Nah," said Andy. "Ten minutes max."
Little did they know.
The ride started off pleasant enough. Pleasant, that is, but for the slight swaying motion and the very, very long way down. The cables hummed. Every time the lift passed one of the pylons, there was a clicking sound, a tilt and a wobbly readjustment of the seat. Their legs dangled above scrubs and grasses. In the distance, patches of snow sparkled in the sun. Now and again some animal could be seen scuttling by. They could hear the far-away voices of the people in the seats above and below theirs, and once or twice Karl and Orli's chair shook in an alarming fashion, accompanied by hoots and waves.
Harry didn't wave back. He didn't dare let go of the cross bar.
He looked up at the contraption holding the chair onto the cable. It seemed flimsy. Harry couldn't see any way it could be trusted to hold their seat safely in place.
So he decided to look down instead. The ground swelled in soft waves. The boulders seemed disturbingly small and distant. Harry couldn't see any way that a fall wouldn't break every bone in their bodies.
So he decided to look ahead at the next seat, and the seat after that. The summit seemed impossibly far away. Also, some sort of fog or cloud was obscuring the view to the top.
So he decided to close his eyes but that was worse than anything. The click, tilt and wobble of a pylon-stop came without warning and the swaying motion completely disoriented Harry.
So he decided just to look at his own white knuckles, clenched around the cross bar.
"So," said Andy next to him. "You've not been up a ski lift, then?"
"I have," said Harry. "That's how I know I don't like them."
"Are you bothered by airplanes then? Tall buildings?"
"Funnily," said Harry, taking care to keep his gaze trained on his hands, "planes don't bother me. They're enclosed. What I don't like is being exposed like this. There's nothing here between you and the abyss. Well, I know, technically speaking there's nothing between you and the abyss in a plane, either. But I don't feel it in my guts as I do when I'm just hanging out in the air like this."
"Right," said Andy.
"You're not bothered at all?" said Harry.
"Nope," said Andy. Harry glanced across. Andy had the gall actually to grin.
Harry grinned back. "Yeah, yeah, I know I cut a pathetic figure but we all have our Achilles heel."
"Where are you from, anyway?" asked Andy. "You're from Auckland, aren't you?"
"That's where I live, yes."
"And you know Karl quite well, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, we did a project together, just last year. A film I directed. *Price of Milk*. Shit, what was that?"
"Just a breeze, that's all."
"But that noise?"
"Just some car starting up down below. Relax, Harry."
"I can't," said Harry. "I can't relax." He flexed and clenched his fists. He breathed in, he breathed out, and he jumped nearly out of his skin because now there was a terrifying noise to his left.
"What was that?" Harry yelled.
"My preciousssss. Nasty hobbitses have got my precioussss and we wants it."
"Shit, Andy, what is that?"
Andy grinned broadly and launched into more of his croaking. "Nice liftses, good liftses, it won't hurt our precioussss Harryses, will it now?"
Harry laughed despite himself. "Is that Gollum?" he asked.
"Yep, a world exclusive, just for you. I'm probably in breach of contract here, but what the hell, it's in a good cause."
"Well, I won't tell on you, don't worry. Anyway, it's not as if you're seen on screen at all, is it? You're just the voice, right?"
"Harry. I am the *star* of these movies. Unlike some people I know who only have a bit part I actually work my guts out day and night for this film."
"Hey, who are you calling a bit-part actor?"
"How many seconds will you be on screen?" said Andy and grinned.
"Now, this is ridiculous. You can't measure the importance of a role by screen seconds! And some of us might have better things to do than spend months of our lives on somebody else's movie project." Harry stopped, turned to Andy, narrowed his eyes. "Hang on. This is on purpose, right?"
Andy looked as innocent as a babe in the woods. A breeze tousled his curls.
"You're trying to get me rankled on purpose, aren't you?" Harry continued. "To take my mind off hanging in this death trap in the sky, right?"
Andy whistled a mock 'what-me' tune.
Harry laughed again and clapped Andy on the shoulder. "You're all right, mate. Anyway..." He shifted round in his seat to face Andy but that made the lift jiggle just ever so lightly so Harry faced the front again and swallowed. "Anyway, where are you from?"
"England. I'm what you lot call a 'pom'," grinned Andy.
"Yeah, mate, I know you're from England, but whereabouts?"
"Do you know England at all? Because you're not going to know this place."
"Well... I know where London is."
Andy laughed. Harry turned his head, just his head, careful not to move his body at all, and looked at Andy laughing, and it occurred to him what a pleasant laugh Andy had, deep and rough around the edges, like a tin scraped along pebbles at the bottom of a creek. He smiled because after all, it was nice to be thrown together with someone new like this, get the chance to meet a person he hadn't met before.
"London, okay?" said Andy and put his right hand up in a halt-gesture. "London's here, and here..." He added his left hand, hooking his left index finger over the crook of his right thumb. "... here is where I grew up. Place called Ruislip Manor. The thriving hub of Middlesex." He laughed again and Harry listened to those pebbles rolling around in the water. It reminded him of someone, the way Andy laughed, but he couldn't quite place it. Maybe not someone, maybe not a person at all. It reminded him of a place he'd once visited, a long time ago.
"Harry? You listening?"
"Yeah, yeah, sorry. What?"
"Looks as if we're going to lose the sun." Andy pointed upwards, towards the top of the mountain.
And that was the end of the view. Because here came the fog.
Thick roiling mists enveloped the lift without transition. One second they were floating across short-cropped high-altitude meadows, watching boulders and rivulets amble past between their feet, with the distant grey road snaking its way down into the valley. The next second they were surrounded by an opaque white cloud. Droplets condensed on the crossbar. The sun slanted through the moisture, creating an eerie sulphuric glow.
"So much for the view," said Andy. His voice sounded muffled. All noise was swallowed up, as in candy floss. The only thing to be heard still was the thrumming of the cable. A pylon loomed up out of nowhere, was very close to them all of a sudden, clanged past. Another shadow appeared and rolled towards them like something seen in a rearview mirrow: looming and already gone again.
"Shit," said Harry, "I hope it's not going to stay like this."
"I think," said Andy, " they said the top is above the clouds."
"Well, I bloody well..."
There was a lurch and a clank. The lift juddered to a sudden stop.
Harry gave a short yelp and clutched onto Andy's arm.
Their seat swung to and fro. The cable had gone silent.
"What was that?" Harry whispered.
Andy twisted round. The seat swung.
"Don't do that!" screeched Harry and clutched at Andy again.
"Okay, okay," said Andy. "Relax. We are..." He looked up, back and up. "We are evidently stuck."
"Stuck?" croaked Harry.
"Listen, the sound of the engine," said Andy. "It's stopped. Do you hear anything?"
Harry listened. There was the trickle of water. There was the cawing of a bird. There was the beating of his own heart. From up ahead, a muted shout tried to stagger through the fog.
"Karl!" yelled Harry in a panic. "Are you there?"
Absurd. Of course, Karl was there. Stuck just like they were. Suspended dozens of meters above the ground, hanging by a thread. A reply floated back towards them but no individual words could be made out. Karl and Orli's chair was invisible in the fog.
"Shit," said Harry. "I don't like this."
Andy twisted round again. The lift swayed, Harry yowled and clutched. "Will you stop *doing* that?" he yelled.
And caught Andy's expression. Andy's grinning expression.
"You did it on purpose," Harry said, half incredulous, half annoyed.
"I just wanted to make you scream and cling to me again," Andy grinned.
Harry un-clung. "Oh, get away," he muttered but couldn't help laughing. "I admit it: I'm a total wimp. And what are you? Superman of the heights?"
"Well," said Andy, leaned forwards and peered into the mists below. "I don't like this much, either. I like being on the move. I don't like being stuck."
"I hope Sean's little girl is all right," said Harry a propos of nothing. "Could you stop leaning like that? Sorry. It's making me nervous."
"What you need," said Andy, "no, what we both need is a bit of something with some bite in it to make us forget our woes."
"Alcohol, you mean?"
"You don't happen to have a hip flask on you?"
"No," said Harry. "No, I don't. My god, I hope we're not going to be here too long. Not hours and hours." He could feel his vision go dizzy. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. And all I have..." He dug into his pockets. "... is this ancient roll of minties. Shit."
"Here," said Andy. He dug around in his own pockets and produced, miracle of miracles, a small metal hip flask.
"Well, I'll be buggered," said Harry and stared.
Andy grinned. "I wish you good luck with that," he said, unscrewed the top and poured out a thimbleful. "Here, you first."
Harry downed the drink. It was good. It was whiskey. It was Black Jack Daniel's. It ate its way down Harry's throat and settled in a warm purring lump at the bottom of his stomach.
Andy poured another shot and drank. A trickle missed his mouth and flowed down his chin, hung in a pendant drop for half a second, then went splotch on Andy's coat lapels.
"Here, have another one," Andy said.
"You amaze me," said Harry. "Is this what you learn in... where is it you're from again? Never go anywhere without your personal supply of emergency grog?"
"Ruislip Manor," said Andy. "Repeat after me."
"Royshit Banner," Harry said on purpose.
"Careful," said Andy, "or I'll jig the seat."
"Ruislip Manor, Ruislip Manor, Ruislip Manor. Give us another swig."
Just then the seat lurched again. A cog rattled. Harry yelped and dropped the flask.
Donk, donk, donk. The tinny sound of metal knocking boulders became fainter with each progressive donk.
"Sorry, mate," Harry said, "oh, I'm so sorry. Here, have this." He was still holding the lid, filled with whiskey.
"It's okay," said Andy. "And have the whiskey. You need it."
"No, no, we'll share it. Please. I insist." Harry pressed the cup into Andy's hand. He must have been getting tipsier than warranted, perhaps the effect of the thin mountain air, perhaps simply the aftershocks of fear and terror, but the cup missed its target and landed in Andy's lap, and there it spilled its contents.
Andy caught it and stuffed it in his pocket. He wiped at his groin.
"Oh shit, sorry, mate," Harry said and actually reached across to swipe at Andy's trousers himself before he realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back. "I'm not doing so well here, am I? Look, I'll get you another flask. I hope that one didn't have any sentimental value? And if it did, look, I'll walk up this mountain and I'll get it back for you, I will."
"Harry," said Andy.
"Yes, yes, what?"
"Stop shaking."
"I'm not shaking."
"You are. Get a grip. You look positively wild."
"Shit." Harry gripped the cross bar again. He realised how futile it was to be gripping onto something that was in itself not stable. He might as well be gripping onto his own hair or onto Andy's sleeve, for that matter. He looked down at his hands. Oh, he *was* gripping onto Andy's sleeve.
"Listen," said Andy.
"Yes, yeah?"
"I'm going to do something now," said Andy. "Okay? Like with the hiccups. People startle you and the hiccups go away. I'm going to try and startle away your shakes."
"Right," said Harry, barely registering what on earth Andy was talking about.
"So I'm just going to do something that will surprise you," said Andy.
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry.
And was surprised.
The surprise was Andy's kiss. Andy just leaned across and without ceremony or by-your-leave planted his wide, soft grin onto Harry's lips.
"Ggg," went Harry, somewhere between his uvula and his Adam's apple.
Then the kiss was gone and Andy's face swam back into view.
"Better?" Andy said.
"Ggg," repeated Harry and wondered where his voice had gone.
"Are you still frightened?"
Harry gulped for air and yes, his voice was back. "Frightened?" he said. "Yeah, now I'm bloody frightened of you, mate."
Andy leaned back and laughed. He laughed so hard that the seat juddered again but strangely, Harry didn't mind this time and didn't tell him to stop.
"You should see your expression," Andy laughed. "I wish I'd brought a camera."
"Fuck, I'm glad you didn't," said Harry. "This better stay strictly between the two of us."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Andy and grinned again. In the swirling mist, his curls haloed in sparkling spray, Andy looked like nothing so much as some gleeful mountain imp.
"Right," said Andy.
"Well," said Harry.
"I could do with another shot of whiskey now," said Andy.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," said Harry.
"You've got quite a bit of it still on your lips," said Andy and grinned.
"Yeah, so have you," laughed Harry and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Oi, I don't taste that terrible, I hope," said Andy.
"Oh no, not at all. That's not why I'm wiping..." Harry laughed again, in a high-pitched way, somewhere between embarrassed and terrified-of-heights.
Andy looked down and dangled his legs. "Well, this is cosy. We're having a cosy time up here in our ski lift."
Harry giggled and hiccuped.
"You hiccuped," said Andy.
"Yes, *huck*," hiccuped Harry. "It's that damn grog of yours."
"I'll have to scare you again," said Andy.
"Oh, right," said Harry.
"Because that hiccup, that's bloody irritating."
*Huck*, went Harry.
So Andy kissed him.
This time Harry kissed back. He leaned across, never mind the swaying, grabbed Andy by the lapel and returned the kiss with interest.
The interest being his tongue. Because you've got to up the stakes, haven't you?
"Hm," said Andy, and that was almost as good as a 'ggg', thought Harry.
What Harry thought about mostly was the whiskey taste inside Andy's mouth.
The hiccups stopped. Harry's heart stopped for one beat. In fact, the entire world stopped, just for a second there.
"Uh," said Harry.
"Hm," said Andy.
Harry found that he had to sit back and readjust his trousers. Everything suddenly felt too tight: his shirt collar and the T-shirt under his shirt and especially, his trousers. Very tight. He cleared his throat.
"I'm, uh," said Harry, "yeah, scared. I'm scared all right. See? Hiccup gone."
"Yeah," said Andy. He looked slightly flushed about the cheekbones.
"You're a scary guy, you are."
"You," said Andy, "are pretty scary yourself."
"Am I?" said Harry, genuinely surprised. "You're the first person to tell me I'm scary."
"Well, it's that, um..." Andy wiggled his fingers in the air. "...that tongue thing, you know. I wasn't expecting that."
"Right, oh." Harry laughed again, a breathless laugh. A laugh bereft of air that fell into the fog like a bread roll. "Well, I had to do that, didn't I? I had to scare you back somehow."
Andy grinned, leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out over the abyss.
"It's fine," Andy said. "I've always wanted to try this type of thing. Seems strange in a way that I haven't up to now. What with being in acting and all."
"So you don't make a habit of going round and giving your fellow male actors kisses?" said Harry.
"Nope," said Andy. "Maybe I should start. It's not often that I get to scare someone with a kiss."
"Nor me," said Harry. "Nor me."
They sat in silence for a while. Andy swung his legs back and forth. This made the seat rock a tiny bit; Andy shot a glance at Harry and stopped swinging. Harry stretched his knees, unstretched them; looked out into the white air, shivered, wiped the mist off his nose. Looked at Andy.
Didn't know what to say so laughed instead.
Looked away.
Looked back.
"You know," he said, "this might sound silly. But I'm still really scared."
"Are you?" said Andy. "What can we do about that?"
"I don't know," said Harry expectantly.
"Harry," said Andy, "I think you do."
This time Andy said 'hm' before he'd even touched his lips to Harry's, and then he said it again once he had. Harry turned towards Andy, Andy leaned into Harry. The seat quaked. Harry clutched at Andy's shoulder, Andy grabbed Harry's waist. The bar separating their two seats dug into Harry's torso. The cross bar dug into his hip. The entire contraption floated and swayed and creaked but it was all right. Everything was all right because Andy's mouth was keeping him safe.
The more Harry kissed Andy, the more he wanted to kiss Andy more. The more he wanted Andy. Not just Andy's mouth but all of Andy. Andy's chest -- where Harry's hand had found its way -- and Andy's hair -- where Harry's other hand was -- and Andy's leg -- which Harry found he could just about hook his own leg around if he twisted a bit -- and Andy's, oh yes, Andy's dick because that's where Harry's hand was heading next, and his chest, too, he wanted to press his own chest against Andy's chest and wanted to feel their lungs heave against each other, except he seemed to have so little breath left, he was barely breathing, just climbing, just clambering, just desperately attempting to straddle the stupid bar and cross bar and fall into Andy's lap.
"Fucking hell, Harry," gasped Andy and pushed him back. "It's not worth dying over."
It was only then that Harry noticed that in his frenzy he'd unhooked the cross bar and had been virtually hanging off the outside of the seat, on his way over to Andy. "I thought you were so shit-scared of heights," said Andy.
"I did, too," said Harry and smoothed his hand over his head. He felt dizzy but not from the height.
"I'm glad I managed to cure you," said Andy.
"Yeah. You should patent that."
"Christ no. I'd have them queuing."
"That should be fun."
"Yes," said Andy and breathed heavily.
"Indeed," said Harry and breathed heavily, too.
"Oh, come here," said Andy and pulled Harry by the shoulder.
"This is not a good place for this," groaned Harry as the bar across his belly winded him.
But it turned out to be as good a place as any. Because who cared where they were sitting or standing or lying or swinging, now that he got a hold of Andy's dick, Andy's quite lovely, quite chunky warm dick, and now that he got to hear Andy's equally lovely response to having his dick held, pebbles in chocolate, moans wrapped in silver foil, and Andy's belly twitching in unison. Harry's own dick was being freed from its casings. Andy's hand wrapped itself around it, and what a nice hand it was, what a nice, strong, assured hand, not a hand that messed around or crept timidly but a hand that just went for it and seemed to know just what to do to make Harry's dick jump to attention. It seemed like a hand born to fit around Harry's dick.
Harry's eyes fell shut even though he had wanted to keep them open and to look at Andy's eyes. But Andy's hand was a good substitute. Oh, a very good substitute. And where was the fog and the mist and the void below? They all appeared to have migrated from the outside world into Harry's insides: mist in his brain and fog around his lungs and a hot, hot void in his groin into which Harry was drawn and pulled and plunged and...
There was a loud rattle and a clang. The chair lift lurched once, twice. Harry fell onto Andy and grabbed onto the back of the seat. Andy grabbed Harry. The cables above gave a shudder and then the whole thing swung into motion. The humming started up again, the pylons started moving towards them, they were on their way. Not on their way up, but on their way down. They were reversing back to the foot of the mountain.
Harry was still clutched in Andy's arms. His hard dick throbbed.
"Shit," he gasped. "That was bad timing."
Within seconds, the fog was gone. They were moving through the sun-flecked landscape of scrubs and rocky outcrops. There were shouts and whoops from behind, and Harry could see Karl waving something, a scarf or a shirt or something.
The terminal shed came into view. Harry hurriedly zipped up his trousers. Andy did likewise and passed a hand through his curls. Harry adjusted his features and tried to put on a bland, hey-wasn't-that-a-lark expression. He noticed that Andy was smacking his lips and flexing his fingers. Harry burst out laughing.
Andy laughed, too. "You owe me a hip flask," he said.
"And you, mate, owe me my dignity."
Then the roof of the terminal station closed over their heads. Harry adjusted his pupils to the sudden darkness. Hands grabbed the seat as it swung around the rails, the cross bar was unlatched, he jumped out, and they were back where they had started from.
An announcement boomed out over the intercom. "Due to a technical fault, we are sorry to announce that this chairlift will be closed until further notice. We apologise for any inconvenience caused blah blah blah."
The others arrived slightly after them. There was much hallooing and recounting of tales of survival. Little Alexandra was in a state of high excitement. Orli was bare-chested, of all things. It was Orli's shirt that Karl had been swinging.
"Okay, mate?" Karl whispered to Harry, "sorry about not sitting with you."
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," said Harry, casting a pointed look over at Orli's nipples. "You seem to have had a fun time, anyway."
Spirits were high and there was much bonding over shared adversity. After they'd claimed their ticket money back, there were fifteen minutes of standing around and debating what to do.
"We've got to do *something*," said Sean. "Or Alexandra will be disappointed." Actually, it was Sean who looked most disappointed for the moment.
Orli appeared with a brochure. "There's another chairlift a bit further up," he said, "and that one's a quad. Four of us can squeeze onto one seat."
"Oh no," said Harry. "Forget it. I'm not going on another one."
"And then there's a scenic railway route," Orli continued, "that takes us right back down and it hooks up with a train back to Wellington. All in time for supper!"
"Yes, but what about the car?" said Sean.
"I can take the car back," Harry said immediately.
"What?" "No!" "We can't let you do that!" "All by yourself!"
"I'll go with him," Andy said. "Keep him company."
"No, no." "We can't let you do that." "We can't let you sacrifice yourselves like this."
"Believe me, it's not a sacrifice," Harry said. "Anyway..." He shot a glance at Andy. "...I've got some unfinished business to attend to."
"Oh?" said Karl and looked puzzled. "And you, Andy?"
"Same here," said Andy.
They waved the others off. Andy burst out laughing as soon as their car had left the curb.
"Unfinished business! Harry, you take the cake."
"How long till we're back in Wellington?" asked Harry.
"I'd say about two-and-a-half to three hours."
"Shit, that's rather a long time. Do you want to stop at a motel on the way?"
"Oh shucks, you're so romantic," said Andy and got another fit of the laughs.
"I am, actually," said Harry. "I can be."
"Well," said Andy and sobered up. "Maybe that's not a bad idea then. Look, there's one now. *The Honeymoon Inn.*"
"Perfect," said Harry and swerved the car into the driveway. "Sounds just right for a nice leisurely business meeting."
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The End.
5 January 2003
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to lobelia40@yahoo.com
azewewish! This one's all for you, *mwah*.Title: Unfinished Business
Part: 1/1
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/lobelia321/
Pairing: Harry Sinclair / Andy Serkis
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Andy get stuck in the sky.
Feedback: Yes, please, I would love feedback! Anything, even if it's only one line, one word!
Content/Warnings: RPS.
Spoilers: None.
Archive Rights: Beyond the Fellowship. My niche. Anyone else, please just ask.
Disclaimers: This is a work of amateur fiction. I do not know these people. I am not making money. The events described in this story did not happen.
Author's Notes: Happy birthday, dear Brenda! With thanks for all the wonderful stories I've read of yours over the past year, for introducing me to deliciousness beyond the Fellowship and for making me think beyond words. *hugs and kisses*
Three pics to go with the story: Go here and scroll down.
------
One Saturday, Harry found himself in a car with an unlikely group of people.
He'd been invited along to go up Mt Ruapehu in Tongariro National Park by Hugo. Hugo had been invited along by Orli, and Orli had been invited along by Lij and Sean Astin who'd wanted to take little Alexandra to see some snow. Sean, in turn, had roped in Andy Serkis, and Harry, considering this collection of people most of whom he barely knew, had roped in his old mate Karl. And then Hugo had dropped out, and Lij had fallen ill, so now Harry sat in a car with a motley bunch of guys, winding his way up a serpentine road.
Harry drove because he'd signed the car-hire agreement. Another five people could just about be squashed into one Peugeot 505 for the ride. Because Sean insisted that his daughter wear a proper safety-belt, Karl and Orli sat on each other's laps in the back. They were alternately being nice uncles, making Alexandra squeal, and squealing themselves, falling into each other with every curve and sharing insider Rohan-jokes.
Harry smiled contentedly. It was a glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky. They were going to go up a mountain; there was going to be a spectacular view from above; he had a day off; and getting to know people better was always nice.
Andy sat next to Harry in the front passenger seat. He seemed pleasant enough, if a tad quiet by contrast. Well, the backseat brigade made up for it with enough raucousness to fill a circus tent.
Indeed, everything was extremely pleasant right up to the moment they turned into the car park and everyone piled onto the blacktop. Harry stood and looked at the Swiss-chalet style building and the line of pylons climbing its way up the hillside.
"What's this?" he said, suspicion dawning.
"Chairlift, of course," said Sean, letting himself be pulled along by an excited Alexandra.
"What do you mean, chairlift?" said Harry. "I thought we were going up in a funicular."
"What's a funicular?" asked Orli.
"You know, a kind of train," said Harry. "On wheels. A proper vehicle, attached to the ground. Not some dreadful hanging-in-the-sky thing."
"It's a cable railway," said Sean. "But what on earth made you think there was one of those up here?"
"This is skiing territory, mate," said Karl. "You knew that."
"I'm not going on any chairlift," said Harry. "No way am I going on any chairlift."
"Yes, you are," said Karl.
"Come on," said Orli.
"I'll wait down here for you," said Harry. "I don't like the things. I'll have a coffee or something."
Immediately, a chorus of protest rose up, intermingled with the usual well-meaning but misplaced reassurances of those not afraid of heights. "You'll have fun, you'll see." "It's only a short ride." "It's perfectly safe." "Don't be a spoilsport." "Get a grip." "We might want to stay up there for hours."
"Come on, Harry," said Karl and touched Harry on the arm. "I'll sit with you and hold your hand."
So, before Harry quite knew what had hit him, he had been pressured into agreeing, a ticket was thrust into his hand, and he was waiting in the queue next to Karl. An attendant punched a number on their tickets, said "Two to a chair" and ushered them along. The individual chairs clanked around an oval turnaround rail, were briefly stopped by the attendant but basically had to be mounted on the trot. Sean went first with his girl, Harry held onto Karl's sleeve but lost his nerve at the last moment, the chair drifted away, Orli flung himself into the empty seat, and they sailed away into the bright blue sky.
"Shit, Karl, wait!" shouted Harry but that was totally ineffectual, of course.
Already the attendant was hustling him towards the next chair. Harry looked around in a panic when he felt his arm gripped by an authoritative hand: Andy's hand. Andy shoved him into the seat, jumped in beside him, the attendant clinked the bar across their laps shut, and they were off.
The lift swayed and creaked and swung out across the incline. Harry could just make out Karl in the lift ahead, lifting his arms in a comic sorry-mate-how-could-I-help-it gesture. Laughter rang across.
"Right," said Harry and gripped the cross bar.
"You're really uncomfortable with this, aren't you?" said Andy.
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry and took a deep breath. "I'll be okay. It's not a long ride, after all."
"Nah," said Andy. "Ten minutes max."
Little did they know.
The ride started off pleasant enough. Pleasant, that is, but for the slight swaying motion and the very, very long way down. The cables hummed. Every time the lift passed one of the pylons, there was a clicking sound, a tilt and a wobbly readjustment of the seat. Their legs dangled above scrubs and grasses. In the distance, patches of snow sparkled in the sun. Now and again some animal could be seen scuttling by. They could hear the far-away voices of the people in the seats above and below theirs, and once or twice Karl and Orli's chair shook in an alarming fashion, accompanied by hoots and waves.
Harry didn't wave back. He didn't dare let go of the cross bar.
He looked up at the contraption holding the chair onto the cable. It seemed flimsy. Harry couldn't see any way it could be trusted to hold their seat safely in place.
So he decided to look down instead. The ground swelled in soft waves. The boulders seemed disturbingly small and distant. Harry couldn't see any way that a fall wouldn't break every bone in their bodies.
So he decided to look ahead at the next seat, and the seat after that. The summit seemed impossibly far away. Also, some sort of fog or cloud was obscuring the view to the top.
So he decided to close his eyes but that was worse than anything. The click, tilt and wobble of a pylon-stop came without warning and the swaying motion completely disoriented Harry.
So he decided just to look at his own white knuckles, clenched around the cross bar.
"So," said Andy next to him. "You've not been up a ski lift, then?"
"I have," said Harry. "That's how I know I don't like them."
"Are you bothered by airplanes then? Tall buildings?"
"Funnily," said Harry, taking care to keep his gaze trained on his hands, "planes don't bother me. They're enclosed. What I don't like is being exposed like this. There's nothing here between you and the abyss. Well, I know, technically speaking there's nothing between you and the abyss in a plane, either. But I don't feel it in my guts as I do when I'm just hanging out in the air like this."
"Right," said Andy.
"You're not bothered at all?" said Harry.
"Nope," said Andy. Harry glanced across. Andy had the gall actually to grin.
Harry grinned back. "Yeah, yeah, I know I cut a pathetic figure but we all have our Achilles heel."
"Where are you from, anyway?" asked Andy. "You're from Auckland, aren't you?"
"That's where I live, yes."
"And you know Karl quite well, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, we did a project together, just last year. A film I directed. *Price of Milk*. Shit, what was that?"
"Just a breeze, that's all."
"But that noise?"
"Just some car starting up down below. Relax, Harry."
"I can't," said Harry. "I can't relax." He flexed and clenched his fists. He breathed in, he breathed out, and he jumped nearly out of his skin because now there was a terrifying noise to his left.
"What was that?" Harry yelled.
"My preciousssss. Nasty hobbitses have got my precioussss and we wants it."
"Shit, Andy, what is that?"
Andy grinned broadly and launched into more of his croaking. "Nice liftses, good liftses, it won't hurt our precioussss Harryses, will it now?"
Harry laughed despite himself. "Is that Gollum?" he asked.
"Yep, a world exclusive, just for you. I'm probably in breach of contract here, but what the hell, it's in a good cause."
"Well, I won't tell on you, don't worry. Anyway, it's not as if you're seen on screen at all, is it? You're just the voice, right?"
"Harry. I am the *star* of these movies. Unlike some people I know who only have a bit part I actually work my guts out day and night for this film."
"Hey, who are you calling a bit-part actor?"
"How many seconds will you be on screen?" said Andy and grinned.
"Now, this is ridiculous. You can't measure the importance of a role by screen seconds! And some of us might have better things to do than spend months of our lives on somebody else's movie project." Harry stopped, turned to Andy, narrowed his eyes. "Hang on. This is on purpose, right?"
Andy looked as innocent as a babe in the woods. A breeze tousled his curls.
"You're trying to get me rankled on purpose, aren't you?" Harry continued. "To take my mind off hanging in this death trap in the sky, right?"
Andy whistled a mock 'what-me' tune.
Harry laughed again and clapped Andy on the shoulder. "You're all right, mate. Anyway..." He shifted round in his seat to face Andy but that made the lift jiggle just ever so lightly so Harry faced the front again and swallowed. "Anyway, where are you from?"
"England. I'm what you lot call a 'pom'," grinned Andy.
"Yeah, mate, I know you're from England, but whereabouts?"
"Do you know England at all? Because you're not going to know this place."
"Well... I know where London is."
Andy laughed. Harry turned his head, just his head, careful not to move his body at all, and looked at Andy laughing, and it occurred to him what a pleasant laugh Andy had, deep and rough around the edges, like a tin scraped along pebbles at the bottom of a creek. He smiled because after all, it was nice to be thrown together with someone new like this, get the chance to meet a person he hadn't met before.
"London, okay?" said Andy and put his right hand up in a halt-gesture. "London's here, and here..." He added his left hand, hooking his left index finger over the crook of his right thumb. "... here is where I grew up. Place called Ruislip Manor. The thriving hub of Middlesex." He laughed again and Harry listened to those pebbles rolling around in the water. It reminded him of someone, the way Andy laughed, but he couldn't quite place it. Maybe not someone, maybe not a person at all. It reminded him of a place he'd once visited, a long time ago.
"Harry? You listening?"
"Yeah, yeah, sorry. What?"
"Looks as if we're going to lose the sun." Andy pointed upwards, towards the top of the mountain.
And that was the end of the view. Because here came the fog.
Thick roiling mists enveloped the lift without transition. One second they were floating across short-cropped high-altitude meadows, watching boulders and rivulets amble past between their feet, with the distant grey road snaking its way down into the valley. The next second they were surrounded by an opaque white cloud. Droplets condensed on the crossbar. The sun slanted through the moisture, creating an eerie sulphuric glow.
"So much for the view," said Andy. His voice sounded muffled. All noise was swallowed up, as in candy floss. The only thing to be heard still was the thrumming of the cable. A pylon loomed up out of nowhere, was very close to them all of a sudden, clanged past. Another shadow appeared and rolled towards them like something seen in a rearview mirrow: looming and already gone again.
"Shit," said Harry, "I hope it's not going to stay like this."
"I think," said Andy, " they said the top is above the clouds."
"Well, I bloody well..."
There was a lurch and a clank. The lift juddered to a sudden stop.
Harry gave a short yelp and clutched onto Andy's arm.
Their seat swung to and fro. The cable had gone silent.
"What was that?" Harry whispered.
Andy twisted round. The seat swung.
"Don't do that!" screeched Harry and clutched at Andy again.
"Okay, okay," said Andy. "Relax. We are..." He looked up, back and up. "We are evidently stuck."
"Stuck?" croaked Harry.
"Listen, the sound of the engine," said Andy. "It's stopped. Do you hear anything?"
Harry listened. There was the trickle of water. There was the cawing of a bird. There was the beating of his own heart. From up ahead, a muted shout tried to stagger through the fog.
"Karl!" yelled Harry in a panic. "Are you there?"
Absurd. Of course, Karl was there. Stuck just like they were. Suspended dozens of meters above the ground, hanging by a thread. A reply floated back towards them but no individual words could be made out. Karl and Orli's chair was invisible in the fog.
"Shit," said Harry. "I don't like this."
Andy twisted round again. The lift swayed, Harry yowled and clutched. "Will you stop *doing* that?" he yelled.
And caught Andy's expression. Andy's grinning expression.
"You did it on purpose," Harry said, half incredulous, half annoyed.
"I just wanted to make you scream and cling to me again," Andy grinned.
Harry un-clung. "Oh, get away," he muttered but couldn't help laughing. "I admit it: I'm a total wimp. And what are you? Superman of the heights?"
"Well," said Andy, leaned forwards and peered into the mists below. "I don't like this much, either. I like being on the move. I don't like being stuck."
"I hope Sean's little girl is all right," said Harry a propos of nothing. "Could you stop leaning like that? Sorry. It's making me nervous."
"What you need," said Andy, "no, what we both need is a bit of something with some bite in it to make us forget our woes."
"Alcohol, you mean?"
"You don't happen to have a hip flask on you?"
"No," said Harry. "No, I don't. My god, I hope we're not going to be here too long. Not hours and hours." He could feel his vision go dizzy. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. And all I have..." He dug into his pockets. "... is this ancient roll of minties. Shit."
"Here," said Andy. He dug around in his own pockets and produced, miracle of miracles, a small metal hip flask.
"Well, I'll be buggered," said Harry and stared.
Andy grinned. "I wish you good luck with that," he said, unscrewed the top and poured out a thimbleful. "Here, you first."
Harry downed the drink. It was good. It was whiskey. It was Black Jack Daniel's. It ate its way down Harry's throat and settled in a warm purring lump at the bottom of his stomach.
Andy poured another shot and drank. A trickle missed his mouth and flowed down his chin, hung in a pendant drop for half a second, then went splotch on Andy's coat lapels.
"Here, have another one," Andy said.
"You amaze me," said Harry. "Is this what you learn in... where is it you're from again? Never go anywhere without your personal supply of emergency grog?"
"Ruislip Manor," said Andy. "Repeat after me."
"Royshit Banner," Harry said on purpose.
"Careful," said Andy, "or I'll jig the seat."
"Ruislip Manor, Ruislip Manor, Ruislip Manor. Give us another swig."
Just then the seat lurched again. A cog rattled. Harry yelped and dropped the flask.
Donk, donk, donk. The tinny sound of metal knocking boulders became fainter with each progressive donk.
"Sorry, mate," Harry said, "oh, I'm so sorry. Here, have this." He was still holding the lid, filled with whiskey.
"It's okay," said Andy. "And have the whiskey. You need it."
"No, no, we'll share it. Please. I insist." Harry pressed the cup into Andy's hand. He must have been getting tipsier than warranted, perhaps the effect of the thin mountain air, perhaps simply the aftershocks of fear and terror, but the cup missed its target and landed in Andy's lap, and there it spilled its contents.
Andy caught it and stuffed it in his pocket. He wiped at his groin.
"Oh shit, sorry, mate," Harry said and actually reached across to swipe at Andy's trousers himself before he realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back. "I'm not doing so well here, am I? Look, I'll get you another flask. I hope that one didn't have any sentimental value? And if it did, look, I'll walk up this mountain and I'll get it back for you, I will."
"Harry," said Andy.
"Yes, yes, what?"
"Stop shaking."
"I'm not shaking."
"You are. Get a grip. You look positively wild."
"Shit." Harry gripped the cross bar again. He realised how futile it was to be gripping onto something that was in itself not stable. He might as well be gripping onto his own hair or onto Andy's sleeve, for that matter. He looked down at his hands. Oh, he *was* gripping onto Andy's sleeve.
"Listen," said Andy.
"Yes, yeah?"
"I'm going to do something now," said Andy. "Okay? Like with the hiccups. People startle you and the hiccups go away. I'm going to try and startle away your shakes."
"Right," said Harry, barely registering what on earth Andy was talking about.
"So I'm just going to do something that will surprise you," said Andy.
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry.
And was surprised.
The surprise was Andy's kiss. Andy just leaned across and without ceremony or by-your-leave planted his wide, soft grin onto Harry's lips.
"Ggg," went Harry, somewhere between his uvula and his Adam's apple.
Then the kiss was gone and Andy's face swam back into view.
"Better?" Andy said.
"Ggg," repeated Harry and wondered where his voice had gone.
"Are you still frightened?"
Harry gulped for air and yes, his voice was back. "Frightened?" he said. "Yeah, now I'm bloody frightened of you, mate."
Andy leaned back and laughed. He laughed so hard that the seat juddered again but strangely, Harry didn't mind this time and didn't tell him to stop.
"You should see your expression," Andy laughed. "I wish I'd brought a camera."
"Fuck, I'm glad you didn't," said Harry. "This better stay strictly between the two of us."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Andy and grinned again. In the swirling mist, his curls haloed in sparkling spray, Andy looked like nothing so much as some gleeful mountain imp.
"Right," said Andy.
"Well," said Harry.
"I could do with another shot of whiskey now," said Andy.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," said Harry.
"You've got quite a bit of it still on your lips," said Andy and grinned.
"Yeah, so have you," laughed Harry and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Oi, I don't taste that terrible, I hope," said Andy.
"Oh no, not at all. That's not why I'm wiping..." Harry laughed again, in a high-pitched way, somewhere between embarrassed and terrified-of-heights.
Andy looked down and dangled his legs. "Well, this is cosy. We're having a cosy time up here in our ski lift."
Harry giggled and hiccuped.
"You hiccuped," said Andy.
"Yes, *huck*," hiccuped Harry. "It's that damn grog of yours."
"I'll have to scare you again," said Andy.
"Oh, right," said Harry.
"Because that hiccup, that's bloody irritating."
*Huck*, went Harry.
So Andy kissed him.
This time Harry kissed back. He leaned across, never mind the swaying, grabbed Andy by the lapel and returned the kiss with interest.
The interest being his tongue. Because you've got to up the stakes, haven't you?
"Hm," said Andy, and that was almost as good as a 'ggg', thought Harry.
What Harry thought about mostly was the whiskey taste inside Andy's mouth.
The hiccups stopped. Harry's heart stopped for one beat. In fact, the entire world stopped, just for a second there.
"Uh," said Harry.
"Hm," said Andy.
Harry found that he had to sit back and readjust his trousers. Everything suddenly felt too tight: his shirt collar and the T-shirt under his shirt and especially, his trousers. Very tight. He cleared his throat.
"I'm, uh," said Harry, "yeah, scared. I'm scared all right. See? Hiccup gone."
"Yeah," said Andy. He looked slightly flushed about the cheekbones.
"You're a scary guy, you are."
"You," said Andy, "are pretty scary yourself."
"Am I?" said Harry, genuinely surprised. "You're the first person to tell me I'm scary."
"Well, it's that, um..." Andy wiggled his fingers in the air. "...that tongue thing, you know. I wasn't expecting that."
"Right, oh." Harry laughed again, a breathless laugh. A laugh bereft of air that fell into the fog like a bread roll. "Well, I had to do that, didn't I? I had to scare you back somehow."
Andy grinned, leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out over the abyss.
"It's fine," Andy said. "I've always wanted to try this type of thing. Seems strange in a way that I haven't up to now. What with being in acting and all."
"So you don't make a habit of going round and giving your fellow male actors kisses?" said Harry.
"Nope," said Andy. "Maybe I should start. It's not often that I get to scare someone with a kiss."
"Nor me," said Harry. "Nor me."
They sat in silence for a while. Andy swung his legs back and forth. This made the seat rock a tiny bit; Andy shot a glance at Harry and stopped swinging. Harry stretched his knees, unstretched them; looked out into the white air, shivered, wiped the mist off his nose. Looked at Andy.
Didn't know what to say so laughed instead.
Looked away.
Looked back.
"You know," he said, "this might sound silly. But I'm still really scared."
"Are you?" said Andy. "What can we do about that?"
"I don't know," said Harry expectantly.
"Harry," said Andy, "I think you do."
This time Andy said 'hm' before he'd even touched his lips to Harry's, and then he said it again once he had. Harry turned towards Andy, Andy leaned into Harry. The seat quaked. Harry clutched at Andy's shoulder, Andy grabbed Harry's waist. The bar separating their two seats dug into Harry's torso. The cross bar dug into his hip. The entire contraption floated and swayed and creaked but it was all right. Everything was all right because Andy's mouth was keeping him safe.
The more Harry kissed Andy, the more he wanted to kiss Andy more. The more he wanted Andy. Not just Andy's mouth but all of Andy. Andy's chest -- where Harry's hand had found its way -- and Andy's hair -- where Harry's other hand was -- and Andy's leg -- which Harry found he could just about hook his own leg around if he twisted a bit -- and Andy's, oh yes, Andy's dick because that's where Harry's hand was heading next, and his chest, too, he wanted to press his own chest against Andy's chest and wanted to feel their lungs heave against each other, except he seemed to have so little breath left, he was barely breathing, just climbing, just clambering, just desperately attempting to straddle the stupid bar and cross bar and fall into Andy's lap.
"Fucking hell, Harry," gasped Andy and pushed him back. "It's not worth dying over."
It was only then that Harry noticed that in his frenzy he'd unhooked the cross bar and had been virtually hanging off the outside of the seat, on his way over to Andy. "I thought you were so shit-scared of heights," said Andy.
"I did, too," said Harry and smoothed his hand over his head. He felt dizzy but not from the height.
"I'm glad I managed to cure you," said Andy.
"Yeah. You should patent that."
"Christ no. I'd have them queuing."
"That should be fun."
"Yes," said Andy and breathed heavily.
"Indeed," said Harry and breathed heavily, too.
"Oh, come here," said Andy and pulled Harry by the shoulder.
"This is not a good place for this," groaned Harry as the bar across his belly winded him.
But it turned out to be as good a place as any. Because who cared where they were sitting or standing or lying or swinging, now that he got a hold of Andy's dick, Andy's quite lovely, quite chunky warm dick, and now that he got to hear Andy's equally lovely response to having his dick held, pebbles in chocolate, moans wrapped in silver foil, and Andy's belly twitching in unison. Harry's own dick was being freed from its casings. Andy's hand wrapped itself around it, and what a nice hand it was, what a nice, strong, assured hand, not a hand that messed around or crept timidly but a hand that just went for it and seemed to know just what to do to make Harry's dick jump to attention. It seemed like a hand born to fit around Harry's dick.
Harry's eyes fell shut even though he had wanted to keep them open and to look at Andy's eyes. But Andy's hand was a good substitute. Oh, a very good substitute. And where was the fog and the mist and the void below? They all appeared to have migrated from the outside world into Harry's insides: mist in his brain and fog around his lungs and a hot, hot void in his groin into which Harry was drawn and pulled and plunged and...
There was a loud rattle and a clang. The chair lift lurched once, twice. Harry fell onto Andy and grabbed onto the back of the seat. Andy grabbed Harry. The cables above gave a shudder and then the whole thing swung into motion. The humming started up again, the pylons started moving towards them, they were on their way. Not on their way up, but on their way down. They were reversing back to the foot of the mountain.
Harry was still clutched in Andy's arms. His hard dick throbbed.
"Shit," he gasped. "That was bad timing."
Within seconds, the fog was gone. They were moving through the sun-flecked landscape of scrubs and rocky outcrops. There were shouts and whoops from behind, and Harry could see Karl waving something, a scarf or a shirt or something.
The terminal shed came into view. Harry hurriedly zipped up his trousers. Andy did likewise and passed a hand through his curls. Harry adjusted his features and tried to put on a bland, hey-wasn't-that-a-lark expression. He noticed that Andy was smacking his lips and flexing his fingers. Harry burst out laughing.
Andy laughed, too. "You owe me a hip flask," he said.
"And you, mate, owe me my dignity."
Then the roof of the terminal station closed over their heads. Harry adjusted his pupils to the sudden darkness. Hands grabbed the seat as it swung around the rails, the cross bar was unlatched, he jumped out, and they were back where they had started from.
An announcement boomed out over the intercom. "Due to a technical fault, we are sorry to announce that this chairlift will be closed until further notice. We apologise for any inconvenience caused blah blah blah."
The others arrived slightly after them. There was much hallooing and recounting of tales of survival. Little Alexandra was in a state of high excitement. Orli was bare-chested, of all things. It was Orli's shirt that Karl had been swinging.
"Okay, mate?" Karl whispered to Harry, "sorry about not sitting with you."
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," said Harry, casting a pointed look over at Orli's nipples. "You seem to have had a fun time, anyway."
Spirits were high and there was much bonding over shared adversity. After they'd claimed their ticket money back, there were fifteen minutes of standing around and debating what to do.
"We've got to do *something*," said Sean. "Or Alexandra will be disappointed." Actually, it was Sean who looked most disappointed for the moment.
Orli appeared with a brochure. "There's another chairlift a bit further up," he said, "and that one's a quad. Four of us can squeeze onto one seat."
"Oh no," said Harry. "Forget it. I'm not going on another one."
"And then there's a scenic railway route," Orli continued, "that takes us right back down and it hooks up with a train back to Wellington. All in time for supper!"
"Yes, but what about the car?" said Sean.
"I can take the car back," Harry said immediately.
"What?" "No!" "We can't let you do that!" "All by yourself!"
"I'll go with him," Andy said. "Keep him company."
"No, no." "We can't let you do that." "We can't let you sacrifice yourselves like this."
"Believe me, it's not a sacrifice," Harry said. "Anyway..." He shot a glance at Andy. "...I've got some unfinished business to attend to."
"Oh?" said Karl and looked puzzled. "And you, Andy?"
"Same here," said Andy.
They waved the others off. Andy burst out laughing as soon as their car had left the curb.
"Unfinished business! Harry, you take the cake."
"How long till we're back in Wellington?" asked Harry.
"I'd say about two-and-a-half to three hours."
"Shit, that's rather a long time. Do you want to stop at a motel on the way?"
"Oh shucks, you're so romantic," said Andy and got another fit of the laughs.
"I am, actually," said Harry. "I can be."
"Well," said Andy and sobered up. "Maybe that's not a bad idea then. Look, there's one now. *The Honeymoon Inn.*"
"Perfect," said Harry and swerved the car into the driveway. "Sounds just right for a nice leisurely business meeting."
------
The End.
5 January 2003
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to lobelia40@yahoo.com
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Vertigo to go!
Date: 2003-01-05 11:33 am (UTC)Well, I have to confess, my poor vertigo suffering self squirmed along with Harry for the first part of this, the difference is that wild horses - and even the lure of a hunky playmate - wouldn't get me onto a chair lift!
Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful. I adored this: the dialogue, the interplay, the humour. Oh! Lucky, lucky Brenda!
*strews flowers at lobelia's feet*
Re: Vertigo to go!
Date: 2003-01-06 04:57 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked the dialogue. This is my *first* Andy and only my second Harry, so trying to creep into their heads was a novel experience -- but extremely enjoyable!
Again, thanks so much for your kind comment.
Andy Action!
Date: 2003-01-05 02:01 pm (UTC)Re: Andy Action!
Date: 2003-01-06 05:00 am (UTC)It's my first Andy and my second Harry, and I was really racking my brain figuring out a situation which would throw these two unlikely figures together. Because I knew it had to be Harry, for Brenda... *gg*
Thanks so much again for your comment.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-06 09:40 am (UTC)But Andy! Yes! Your Andy is very, very, very wonderful and I love him. I also loved:
It reminded him of someone, the way Andy laughed, but he couldn't quite place it. Maybe not someone, maybe not a person at all. It reminded him of a place he'd once visited, a long time ago.
and:
"Well, I'll be buggered," said Harry and stared.
Andy grinned. "I wish you good luck with that," he said, unscrewed the top and poured out a thimbleful.
And, oh yes:
Harry laughed again, a breathless laugh. A laugh bereft of air that fell into the fog like a bread roll.
Fantastic.
thank you
Date: 2003-01-06 01:58 pm (UTC)And thanks so much for liking Andy! It's the first Andy I've written (and I haven't read any others) and that's always a little trepidacious (if that's a word).
MountainImp!Andy, yay
Date: 2003-01-07 11:16 am (UTC)There's something very likeable about this Andy, very ... impish, for lack of a better word. (Actually he comes across as something of a nature spirit, heh, probably all those metaphors of pebbles and so on. Oh, and chocolate. Maybe it's the way that his laugh reminds Harry of a place, rather than necessarily a person.)
But even in adversity - stuck in a phobia-inducing situation - the two of them have fun: they're lighthearted, and once Harry is, ahem, distracted from his fear (how I wish I had an Andy-substitute around for my panic-attacks!) he enters into the spirit of things quite convincingly.
As usual your images grab me: A laugh bereft of air that fell into the fog like a bread roll. Am jealous. How do you do it?
"And you, mate, owe me my dignity." ... I can hear that line so clearly ... which is pretty good going, as I don't think I've ever heard Harry's voice. (Was fascinated to learn from the extended DVD that his Mt Doom 'No' is in fact voiced by Hugo/Elrond!)
And the quiet amusement - which almost feels like a shared joke between you and Harry, since Andy never remarks on it - at the juvenile cavortings of Urban & Bloom ... mmm, sweet!
In short: yes, yes, yes: lighthearted; hot kissing (another thing you do exceptionally well ... writing about it that is); sense of space; gentle mocking of younger cast; spectacular scenery and the ordinary made strange (that bread roll, called into being just for a metaphor: the bread roll that didn't fall). I enjoyed it very much - did I say that?
xx - Gloria
PS For some reason this Harry reminds me of your Viggo ... this is not because I am in any way obsessed ... it's a shared quality of fussiness, perhaps the bit where he realises he hasn't eaten for hours ...
Re: MountainImp!Andy, yay
Date: 2003-01-08 02:23 am (UTC)And you can do humour
Thank you so much for that!
There's something very likeable about this Andy, very ... impish, for lack of a better word.
I just had to look at his impish photo! But you say 'this' Andy -- are there others??? Have I missed an Andy-fic somewhere?
How do you do it?
I really don't know. I think with "Perfect Day" I freed a part of my brain that had been fenced in by 'can't do that', and now these things just pop into my head if I just imagine myself into the situation enough. I've got no idea where they come from.
"And you, mate, owe me my dignity." ... I can hear that line so clearly
Oh, I am *so* glad you liked that line! I just couldn't see these two as shmoopy-sentimentalists -- overwhelmed a bit, yes, but not completely. Harry is too together for that, and too no-nonsense about sex (listen to his commentary!!!).
(Was fascinated to learn from the extended DVD that his Mt Doom 'No' is in fact voiced by Hugo/Elrond!)
Eeek!! Didn't know that. Have still not ploughed my way through *all* of the commentary.
the juvenile cavortings of Urban & Bloom
Heehee. Yeah, that was fun, and a little wink at Brenda's OTP...(which last time I looked was Karl/Harry).
For some reason this Harry reminds me of your Viggo
Hm, very interesting. This hadn't occurred to me. But it could be a sign of how I'm coming round to Viggo (who's so lovely on the ext-DVD) and maybe just how I slot all 40-somethings into the same category... *g*
Did I tell you that I'm even coming round to Elijah?? *boggles* But I actually prefer him now to Orlando (wonders never cease).
Sorry about having been a slack correspondent but it may be a while yet.
Thanks so much for reading this and commenting.
*hugs*
Re: MountainImp!Andy, yay
Date: 2003-01-08 02:36 am (UTC)Thank god it's not just me who has this sort of thought.
Well, from the outside at least, it doesn't show.
re 'This' Andy ... I think he's appeared in a couple of slash-flashes, and there's Della's WIP, but it's more to distinguish him from RL Andy (if such a creature exists).
Of course V is lovely on the extDVD. And everywhere else. No one ever listens to me ... Am a little worried to hear that you are embracing Elijah - hopefully not literally, squeeing fangirls will rend you limb from limb ... though can certainly relate to going off Orlando. So pretty. And yet so vacant. (I'm hoping it's an act).
Anyway, if your writing is 'down the toilet' then I shall relax and join you there!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-01-09 07:57 pm (UTC)(Stream-of-consciousness feedback!)
thank you
Date: 2003-01-10 02:08 am (UTC)Beautifully written, of course, but I expected that. Well, you are too, too kind. When I posted this I was actually really down in the dumps and thinking my writing's gone down the toilet, this is crap and other uplifting thoughts of similar ilk. So it's nice to hear that this, at least, didn't come across to anyone else but me. (Or if it did, *g*, the merciful souls kept kindly silent.)
And the fog and the fear of heights: I've had both but not in that combination. I've been on a chairlift in the fog and loved it. And I've been on top of cathedrals and ferris wheels and hated it. So I mixed it all up together and out came these two lovelies in the sky.