Title: GND: Song
Summary: There is a way to go about pursuing happiness. Usually this is done through embarrassing moments when our roommates are thought to be off of the premises… Challenge fic for AsheRhyder's fan-comic Roommates, though this applies to GND byPikalaCynique. Hinted slash, Legolas/Sweeney.
Warnings: Huge crossing over of multiple fandom and all of this is based off of "Roommates" and "Girls Next Door" on deviantArt, so go and read that first!
Disclaimer: Do not own, make money off of or want to have or make money off of. Do not own any mentioned music, either.
Dedication: To the artists responsible for the awesome comics I've been reading over at deviantArt since I could really remember and have just recently gotten back into. AsheRhyder and Pika la Cyniquerock and should be remembered!

Eheh…I guess some explanation is in order to prevent confusion? I got the challenge from reading "Roommates" but this better goes with "Girls Next Door". Both fan-comics are good, neither worse or better than the other, just different and with a different feel.


-:-
You ain't seen the best of me, yet.
-Fame.


The apartment was finally empty. Finally, after three weeks of Sweeney not stepping out once, despite the goading and coaxing of that Lovett woman with her promises of visiting the beach and pies without a trace of human flesh in it at all or in the least, he left the apartment to get his knives properly sharpened, to visit his daughter and (hopefully with one of the other building's tenants as an escort) to stalk Judge Turpin a little bit.

Thus, Legolas deduced that he had exactly five hours to make the place clean as a non-surgical hospital room and he took out every cleaning product that the two roommates owned. He would use every single one of them as well! The blonde elf would even use the roach poison, despite his belief that it wasn't completely necessary; but he could easily justify its use by the fact that Mrs. Lovett came over at least once a week and Legolas didn't want to give her the opportunity to bludgeon anything with her rolling pin before using the pin five seconds later to finish flattening a pie crust. No-ho-ho.

Sure that the coast was clear and setting his watch—the nice one he had gotten from Miss Christine when he had saved her hat from the middle of the duck pond in the park down the hill the one time that Erik wasn't around and fit nicely to his skin with the tiny, baby garnets that showed off nicely compared to his skin—to go off exactly twenty minutes before the time Sweeney would get back, Legolas donned a pair of purple rubber gloves, faded workman's jeans, a button-up shirt he had gotten from Jareth that was covered in paint and glitter and, finally, a green apron, the elfin prince set a large pot of water to boil and went about scaring the bugs, spiders and their debris from all corners of the apartment.


The sign in the middle of his daughter's apartment door, stuck to the wood with something that looked a little bit like chewing gum, was rather vexing, to be sure.

'Be Back In Three Days, Sorry For Any Inconvenience—Johanna and Anthony' was printed on a sign that was rather similar to the cheery 'Sorry, We're Closed'sign that had been in the window of the shop Sweeney often went to get his barber's tools cleaned and sharpened not half an hour ago.

He just stood looking at the sign a moment, his neck tilted at an odd angle and the hat he was wearing that the chirpy elf had forced on his head so he "didn't catch a cold" almost fell off and onto the clean hardwood floor. Sweeney wasn't quite sure if he should be disappointed, but instead of getting angered and loosing his annoyance on the door by taking off his black scarf, wrapping it around the doorknob and pulling until the metal popped free so he could then use it to pummel the wood into mulch, the Demon Barber spun on his heel and started walking back for the (slightly terrifying) elevator.

The morning didn't have to be a complete waste. He still had to walk the seven city blocks to where Judge Turpin was supposed to be proceeding over a trial with some guy that called himself The Dude, suing some big time charity cripple for…Sweeney was pretty sure it was a rug, but he could be wrong. All he cared about was walking in during the speeches and sitting down in the very back of the hall to watch Turpin have a coronary at just having to listen to the Defendant and the Accused. It would probably be worth getting out of the apartment to watch that.


Boiled water finally off of the stove, Legolas carefully—and with bare feet—maneuvered around the fluffy chemical makeup of the grunge spray he had taken to the kitchen floor. He set the pot at a tilt and the steaming brew splashed into the mop bucket Legolas had wrestled from the deepest part of the utility closet, some of his hair being taken away as he'd shut the door with his back and the braid he kept at the right side of his hair parting got snagged (ow, by the way). The water turned the previously scratchy and ugly grey colored mob strings into curvy purple and he tip-toed around the chemicals around the floor once more.

Oh, he was doing well! So far, he had cleaned out the dead body parts Sweeney had in the hidden compartment under his barber's chair—compliments of Erik for Christmas, he supposed—with minimal risk to his own person for some airborne disease thanks to the mask he'd borrowed from Sarah (bless the girl) and had cleaned up his own room of the mushrooms in his closet and the unfortunate amount of dirt and leaves Legolas himself had accidentally brought in thanks to his looking over the forest set adjacent to the building and fighting off a few people that had applied for an apartment and been rejected—that other elf called Nuada being the biggest problem Legolas had ever encountered, including that short, unmentioned affair with Gimli that the elf prince would never, ever mention if he could help it—so he was ahead of the game. If he was lucky, he could finish up the kitchen and then make dinner for both himself and Sweeney, instead of the vegan meal he usually just made for himself to avoid the stuff Mrs. Lovett brought over.

Counting the minutes until he could start working on the floor, the elfin prince of the Lord of the Rings series fluffed up his hair (mostly the bits that had slithered into the neck of his shirt) and padded over to the small radio he kept in the kitchen for the rare occasions he did clean or cook or simply retreat into the kitchen to avoid any chaos that came from just living in the building and switched it to his favorite channel; KDK1, which was mostly the station that played show tunes and the stuff one would hear from various movies—Disney or otherwise.

The electric device tuned up and turned into the very beginnings of a familiar—almost cherished—song just as the usual radio star finished introducing it.

"…I would like to be here, I would like to be there, I would like to be, Everywhere at once, I know that's a contradiction in terms…And it's a problem, Especially when, My body's nearing fifty, While my mind is nearing ten…"

Hm, something from 'Nine' that had played on Jareth's TV often enough after him having friends over and binging on various sugary foods. Something not entirely unpleasant.

The minutes were up on waiting for the grime and chemicals to soak, Legolas padded back over to the mop and bucket with a little, tiny swagger.


What the bloody, sodding, hell?

Walking away from the courthouse, Mr. Todd was not in a good mood. In fact, anyone nearby just might have seen an aura of a murderous, possessed demon and any in his immediate airspace (i.e. ten feet) went even further back. He'd be awesome for clearing tables during lunch hour, actually.

He had gotten to the trial just fine, that had not been a problem and he had taken a seat in the very back so his presence was not immediately known or found out. But, after about ten seconds, he had bitten the inside of his cheek in response to seeing that it was not Judge Turpin, but Judge Mathis. It was the right plaintive and defendant—that bowling ball touting lay about was just making his argument that since the other Mr. Lebowski's wife had made a promise to a non-house broken pair of crooks, blah, blah, blah—but not the right judge.

Sweeney had turned to the guard standing next to the door—whom was shaking rather badly when Mr. Todd looked at him, flinched a foot backwards even—and asked where Turpin was. The guard had stuttered that he had gone to France on some urgent business regarding a friend of his; someone called Judge Frollo.

Trudging back up the hill to his apartment building, the barber silently mumbled under his breath in a way that often set Mrs. Lovett preaching about not doing that since people didn't like it, "…No sharp tools, no seeing my sweet Johanna, no making the judge suffer more. Why did I even bother getting out of bed today? …Oh, right, it was the elf. I'll be giving him a close shave when I get back up, I will…"

Finally getting into the building, Sweeney walked right by those two angels that had dragged Sweeney's roommate back upstairs that one time that transvestite alien had gotten his hands on the blonde and dressed him up in revealing leather and silk. The light haired one gave him a twitchy wave and the black haired one rolled his eyes and dragged the other one along before he—god forbid—tried to engage Sweeney in conversation. Smart, considering Sweeney was still muttering as he boarded the elevator, taking out one of his blades and bemoaning how dull the piece was.

Key turning in the doorknob, the wooden frame opened almost comfortingly for Sweeney. He stepped in, the smells of lemon and orange in the way that was only present for chemical makeup and made his nose scrunch up as he hung his coat, hat and scarf on the wrack Legolas had nailed to the wall when he had moved in—commenting that it was odd when most people didn't have one already; and he would later find out that Sweeney was missing a lot of essentials like more than one working light bulb, utensils other than knives, and other basic food groups other than that which was put into pies—and he tucked his barber's blade back into its harmless, folded position.

Slipping off his boots as they were getting uncomfortable from walking around all day, his ears picked up the beat and pitch of drums, trumpets and some string instruments… Perhaps the elf had allowed Erik into the place so he could practice like a few months ago?

He made no noise himself as he walked through the living area and his dull, really quite lifeless eyes widened at the sight set out before the kitchen on dainty legs, long blonde hair spinning about his figure and a mop held close to his face as though it were a microphone—the big kind, not the little kind that a person could tie around their neck so they could also play guitar. Legolas was singing (better than usual; not all Celtic and proper, but like a human and not at all perfect….a little like Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett when they were just beginning to make meat pies) and dancing and, maybe, cleaning.

"…I want to be Proust, or the Marquis de Sade! I would like to be Christ, Mohammed, Buddha, but not have to believe in God! And you know that I mean it with all of my heart…"

Here, the elf prince spun around twice and, completely dropping the mob to the now dry kitchen floor with a 'thunk' so he could jump onto the island table and flashed his arms outward, looking out the big window far away from the focus of Mr. Todd as the barber was looking at the blonde's ass. The song was coming from the radio Sweeney often thought of whittling into tiny pieces and drawing to its close.

Thoughts of revenge for getting him up left Sweeney's mind and he leaned against the back of the nearest sofa, a twitch forming at the left side end of his mouth that might have been an attempt at a smile or something like human emotion besides mania.

"…It's the end if something important doesn't start! I want to be young! But I have to be old. What I want is a tale of sound and fury that some idiot went and told. I would like the universe to get down on its knees and say—"

Here, the song in the recording playing from the radio said 'Guido' and was replaced as Legolas plopped backwards onto his rear for the finish.

"—Legolas, whatever you please, it's okay, even if it's ridiculous, we'll arrange it!"

Sweeney bit back something like a cruel laugh as the spirited elf jumped off of the island entirely, bent to pick up the mop again and held it over his head, arms spread in a 'V' shape that brought his shoulder blades together and showed off the curve of his ass in the jeans Sweeney couldn't for the life of him remember Legolas wearing EVER before.

"So ARRANGE it!"

A repeat of the phrase echoed from the radio with what sounded like thirty prissy women.

Legolas spun once, twice, three times, with his eyes closed and a huge smile on his mouth as he stopped and his back was facing Sweeney again.

"That's all that I want!"

There was more playing from the radio, more of the women's voices in unison singing some kind of Italian, but Sweeney paid it no attention as Legolas finally righted his position, propping the mop against the wall and bending to take up the dirty water in the bucket. Sweeney padded silent as night into the kitchen and, unceremoniously, took a deep breath, held it until he saw all of the water in the bucket was down the drain of the sink, Legolas completely occupied to be sure none of the stuff stayed in the bucket, and the Demon Barber blew in the Elvin Prince's pointy ear.

"Boo."

The result was a bone-chilling, girly, girly scream and Legolas grapping the long corded spray wand attached to the sink. He clutched the wand tight and spun around to attack when he was met with the highly amused face of his roommate.

Unfortunately, it took a moment too long for his body to catch up with his eyes and brain and Legolas squeezed on the wand handle; a long spray of hot water shot out and hit the brunette with the silver horror streak along his neckline, dousing his shirt and causing it to stick to his chest that, had he been a woman, would have been rather improper.

Now, Sweeney didn't mind being hit with hot fluid—it happened quite often before he came to the apartment—but Legolas was not used to doing anything like that to a crazy, sullen, murderous British man. As such, he sucked in some air to regain breathe from his scream a little too quickly, the oxygen rushed to his head, his eyes rolled back and, had Sweeney not been there, he would have fallen flat on his face.

Since Sweeney was there, however, Legolas ended up face first against Mr. Todd's chest, long arms wrapping under his arms to keep him up and a rattle at the front of the apartment that announced that they were no longer alone.

Stomping came into the living area and Sweeney slowly turned to find who was in his midst. He wasn't afraid of whoever it was—the door wasn't kicked down, so the person had a key, so they knew the two roommates, so they probably weren't dangerous—and he didn't see anything too out of the ordinary.

In his living area, each holding large, blunt objects like frying pans and baseball bats, were former inspector Javert, ex-commodore James Norrington and Opera Ghost Erik. All of them seemed to be out of breath, having run from whatever they were doing from their own rooms—actually they had all been in Javert and James's apartment watching American Idol—and each of them had a look of either fear or morbid curiosity on their face.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Sweeney greeted, hefting Legolas up a bit more, and started into the living area to drop the not-so-light weighing elf prince onto the sofa. The blonde was plopped down and his head hit the biggest throw-pillow directly.

Javert seemed to be the first one to recover. He hid his frying pan behind his back and spoke up, "We, uh, apologize for any intrusion, Mr. Todd, but we heard screaming and thought we should check to see everything is alright."

"More like checking if Legolas died," Erik muttered under his breath, eyeing the wet stains on Sweeney and pointedly making sure they weren't red.

"Ah, that was Legolas," Mr. Todd not so much explained, as stated simply as a matter of fact, "I snuck up behind him after he was done singing to the song on the radio. It was a little funny, right up until the sprayed water in the face."

James walked over to the radio on the counter and quickly put the water wand back in its holder to keep from electrocuting himself or anyone else, ears picking up the new music, "… 'Que Sera, Sera?'"

Sweeney shook his head, "No, not that. One of those Broadway songs with Italian."

James and Erik both wanted to point out that 'Que Sera, Sera' had Italian music, and an Italian vocalist, but both swiftly changed their mind as Javert stated pulling them out of the apartment, clearly annoyed at having his time wasted and missing the ending of their show.

"We apologize for the inconvenience," Javert called over his shoulder, shutting the door with an almost spiteful slam.

Sweeney waited until their footsteps faded away before shrugging to nobody in particular and went to the kitchen to pick up the mop and bucket and put them away. As much as he was annoyed earlier at Legolas forcing him into an unproductive morning and afternoon, it would be nothing compared to when the elf woke up and realized he had fainted.

Personally, Sweeney feared for his safety at the thought of that conversation that would follow and didn't want to add gas to the fire by leaving the mop out to secrete dirty water on the clean floor and the bucket faced upside down to leave what would look like a massive water ring.