Chat-Up Lines

200 words :: Jude Law/Elijah Wood :: 4/7/05
Elijah’s lips are wrapped around one of those little clove cigarettes he’s been sucking down all day, and it’s easy enough to imagine them wrapped around something else.


Jude flicks his ash, watches it fall between his feet, then glances sidelong at Elijah. Elijah’s lips are wrapped around one of those little clove cigarettes he’s been sucking down all day, and it’s easy enough to imagine them wrapped around something else.

Not the most productive line of thought, that.

“So…you do the whole convention thing quite a bit, don’t you?” It’s lame. He might as well have said “come here often?”

Elijah doesn’t seem to care, though; he grins up at Jude and rolls his shoulders in a sort of shrug. “Yeah, pretty much. Pain in the ass, but it can be fun.” He runs his fingers through his hair, scratching. “You meet cool people sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?” Laughing, Jude grinds his fag out under his heel.

“Oh yeah,” Elijah says, all wide-eyed earnestness. “Like Jude fucking Law, man.”

“Come up to my room and maybe I’ll give you my autograph,” Jude says, deliberately sleazy now.

“Yeah, yeah, man,” Elijah bounces, plays the geeky fanboy role to the hilt, “maybe I will.”

Then the clove’s back between Elijah’s lips; his eyelashes flutter down, cheeks hollowing.

Jude says, “Want to get drinks after?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”