Explicit, slash, Viggo/Elijah story written as back-up fic for the 2005 lotrips secret slasha exchange, for rosemending, who wanted "this pairing, or Dom/Elijah, or basically Elijah/anyone" (best undemanding assignment ever). This is the fic I was trying to write for the Lotripping zine that did not manage to finish in time.
Big Thanks to esorlehcar for tips on what to write; to her again and telesilla and cindyjade and matildabj and kyuuketsukirui for reassurance, hand-holding and cheering; to diamona for the same and very appreciated beyond-the-call beta notes. Dedicated to both msilverstar & angstslashhope, for it wouldn't have been written without their promptings, though distant in time.
Summary: Elijah's cranky and petulant, and looks to Viggo for comfort.
Everybody knows that shit doesn't always smell the same. Shit has many many various smells, but there's always this one common thing that enables you to identify it as shit.
Right. It's normal after all. Shit's only those dead bacteria, plus these things you don't digest, and there's always the same er, chemical element or something, if you go down to the molecules-- The Ice Storm was right about that, sadly, poor Mikey, and Elijah doesn't want to think about this anymore. There's no way in hell he'll be able to eat the scrambled eggs cooling on his plate if he does, and he's already abnormally slow this morning. Late morning. Whatever.