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The e-mail from Viggo had been more cryptic than usual. The subject read "You didn't believe me;" the body of the message simply the name of one of the DVD extras and a timestamp. Karl sat for a minute trying to remember what it was he hadn't believed. Viggo was always fooling around; approaching his statements with a healthy dose of skepticism was always a prudent choice. He could be referring to anything.
Karl rummaged through their stacks of movies, the collection as hopelessly unorganized as the rest of their haphazardly combined belongings and neither had been inspired to make heads or tails of it all since Craig moved in last year. He finally found the boxed set, whether his or Craig's copy he didn't know, and slipped the disk in, quickly scrolling to the correct segment and fast forwarding to the specified time. He hit pause, stared at the screen, then exploded with a loud bark of laughter. How he'd never noticed, let alone paid any attention to Viggo and Craig's relative heights during their scenes together, he didn't know. But now that he saw the elven heels Craig had been sporting, it was all he could think about.
When Craig came home a few days later, cranky and tired from both the trip and the flight, he was met at the door with several pairs of platform boots lined up neatly against the wall in a variety of colors and styles. Too exhausted to care about the joke, Craig dumped his things where he stood and shuffled into the kitchen, habit more than hunger leading him toward the smell of food. Karl's back was toward the door, and he half-turned and flashed a quick smile of hello before returning his attention to stirring a pot of something on the stove.
"What's up with all the shoes?" Craig asked through a yawn.
"Just thought you might like a little bit of movie magic at home, give you a few extra inches when you walk around the house."
"I'm sorry, I'm too tired to let you play this out as dramatically as you'd want. Why are there boots in the hall?"
Karl turned and really looked at Craig for the first time. He took in the slight puffiness around his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, the awkward angle in his posture.
"Sit down," he said, pulling out a chair. "I'll get you something to drink."
"No, I just need sleep."
Karl turned off the stove, moved to Craig's side and kissed him, wrapping an arm around his waist as they headed for the stairs. "Dinner will taste even better reheated for breakfast, definitely good leftovers food."
"And the shoes?"
"I only just saw they made you wear heels while filming on the Lothlórien flets."
"Ah. Did you think I stood on a box or something?"
Karl shrugged. "I didn't think about it at all, actually."
Craig huffed out a laugh. "So, not the most observant person ever."
"Apparently not, no."
They flopped down on the bed, Craig staring at the ceiling and Karl staring at Craig.
"You know, I was hoping for a little reenactment with me as Aragorn."
"You want to argue with me in elvish?"
"I want to argue with you in heels," Karl smirked, sitting up and starting to remove Craig's shoes. "You need some help getting ready for bed?"
"No. Just make sure that 'great as leftovers' meal is ready 'cause I'm going to be ravenous in the morning."
Karl pushed himself to his feet and smiled down at Criag. "And hopefully for more than my stew."