Dare
It had been a dare. A stupid drunken dare. And now Elijah was stuck, in the shower, with a razor and shaving cream and rapidly cooling bathwater. He took a deep breath and smoothed the shaving cream on. It wasn't that he'd never thought about doing this--he had nice legs. He knew it--they were kind of muscular, unlike the rest of his body, and long and pale. And he wasn't really all that hairy. It was just...
All his mates were standing outside the door, waiting for him to shave his legs so that he could make good on his bet. It was weird, was all, weird and kind of. Weird. Kind of weird, was all.
Elijah ran the razor from his ankle to his knee and cursed when blood welled up. "Fuck," he yelled. It stung a little bit. He drew a finger up his leg, tracing the path of the razor, and realized that only one of the hair was gone. He swished it around in the bathwater and pulled it up his leg again. This time it worked. He had to clean it and run it twice over each section, sometimes three times. He was slow and careful with his knees, and in order to get the underside of his thighs smooth, he had to draw the razor left and right instead of up and down.
Very fucking complicated.
He shaved all the way up to his groin, and examined his pubic hair.
"That's going a bit too far," he said to himself, and rinsed off. There was a disgusting amount of hair and shaving cream floating at the top of the water. And there he was, thinking he wasn't so hairy!
He let the water drain out of the tub--he had to clear the drain out three times!--and turned on the shower, rinsed off, washed his hair. He tied on the bathrobe that Billy had brought in. It was a bit small around the waist and a bit large around the shoulders, but he tied it on anyway.
"Come on out, Doodle, we heard the shower go off!" called Orlando. He sounded way too happy, and way too drunk, and Elijah scowled at the door. They all got to sit out there, drinking and smoking to their hearts' content, while Elijah had to sit in grody water shaving his fucking legs. There was nothing like holding a razor to a major artery to sober one up fast. There was nothing like taking a stupid dare to sober up fast either.
"You know, Lij..." Dom now, that bastard. "If you're scared, we can always just skip you and go on to the next one. I have a really good dare for Orli that we can do instead--"
"Fuck you all," said Elijah and swung the door open. "Where is it."
Hannah held it out from where she was leaning against Viggo. "Right here." She grinned at him, and he scowled again. So now he wasn't drunk, he had no hair on his legs--makeup was going to kill him; what had they all been thinking?--and his baby sister who wasn't even old enough to vote or buy cigarettes was macking on Viggo. Elijah's Viggo!
Well, maybe he wasn't quite Elijah's Viggo, but one day he would be! And--and--and on that day, the day when maybe Elijah would make his move, Viggo would say, "Remember that time Hannah dared you to wear her skirt?" and Elijah would be mortified and Viggo wouldn't even remember it five seconds later when he was talking about the fucking colors in cheesecake, but Elijah just wouldn't be able to get it up, even if Viggo fucking stripped down and bent over and lubed himself up right in front of Elijah.
"Damn it," he snarled, and grabbed the skirt. "I hate you all."