Group: Summer '04 Awards Winners
Member No.: 12
Joined: 29-November 03
I bring fic.
Rating: PG13 for swearing
Warnings: Swearing. Slash
Disclaimer: Not mine, blabla (the guys, that is)
Summary: Orlando's majorly pissed off.
It all started on an early Friday morning.
Billy burst into the make-up trailer in that overly noisy way of his that Orlando could have appreciated if it weren’t for the fact that it was before six and he hadn’t had his coffee yet. The Scot nestled himself on the table in front of the mirror, bent forward conspiratorially and said,
Orlando saw Neela’s smile reflected in the only tiny piece of mirror that wasn’t obscured by various Hobbit-parts and sighed. He’d lost count of the times one of the guys had interrupted his make-up session to share the latest gossip they considered absolutely necessary knowing about before noon.
“Bean got remarried,” he said wearily, not even bothering to feign interest.
Billy shook his head.
“Ian got arrested for shagging minors.”
“Ew, gross. No.”
Orlando sighed. His patience was dwindling. “What, then?”
A grin appeared on Billy’s face. His feet were bouncing up and down in very Hobbit-like excitement. “Viggo,” he said.
“Ian got arrested for shagging Viggo?” Orlando said, disturbing images invading his mind.
Billy rolled his eyes and made a sound of impatience. “Of course not. Besides, Ian wouldn’t stand a chance against the broad-shouldered, sun kissed and not to mention staggeringly handsome guy Viggo banged to pieces last night.” He looked at Orlando with smug triumph, undoubtedly proud to have scooped the story.
“Shocking, isn’t it?” Billy said when Orlando didn’t respond. “Brought him over, apparently, and smuggled him out before dawn.” He chuckled good-naturedly. “Liv didn’t sleep a wink, poor lass.”
He jumped off the table. “Anyway, won’t keep you from your beauty treatment any longer. God knows you need it. Bye-bye, Neela dear. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He blew her a kiss and left.
“Bye!” she called after him, and when she believed he was out of ear-shot, added: “He’s insane.”
“Yeah,” Orlando replied absently. His mind was reeling. Viggo sleeping with some guy? Viggo? It couldn’t be. Viggo wasn’t like that. He was probably the most decent guy he knew around here. With the exception of Pete, perhaps. He would never do that. Right? Orlando shifted in his seat. Maybe Liv could tell him more. She was temporarily staying at Viggo’s, so if there was anyone who could provide the truth about the matter, it was her. Yes. He should talk to her.
“You’re the fifth person asking,” Liv sighed a few hours later. “You’re all acting as if Viggo has never slept with anyone before.”
Orlando wiped a strand of flaxen hair from his face, careful not to mess up his wig. “I’m sorry, I was just—”
“Curious,” Liv finished for him, taking a cigarette from its package. “They all are. Want one?”
Orlando shook his head. Liv put away the package and lit the cigarette, looking around her. It was barely eight o’clock and the New Zealand fog clung to the trees and grass. The vision was breathtaking but Orlando hardly took notice.
“So it’s true then?” he asked, afraid Liv’s attention might stray.
She turned and looked at him with narrowed eyes, blowing out a wisp of smoke. “Why do you care so much?”
Orlando averted his eyes and looked at the misty landscape in front of him without actually seeing it. “I don’t,” he said. “It’s just that it doesn’t strike me as something Viggo would do, you know?”
Liv chuckled softly. “I hate to tell you this, but even Viggo has his imperfections.”
Her eyes were glistening with amusement and Orlando rolled his in annoyance. “I know that.” He stood up from the fallen tree they had been sitting on and brushed his costume clean. “Sorry for bothering you. See you at lunch, probably.”
He walked away, but Liv’s voice stopped him. “Hey come on, Orli, I was just kidding.”
He half-turned, not meeting her eyes. “I know,” he said, walking along anyway.
“I only heard them coming in,” Liv called after him. “I never heard them… you know. For all I know they could’ve just… I don’t know, talked over wine or something,” she finished lamely.
Yeah, sure, Orlando thought, but he waved in thanks and bye regardless.
He didn’t cross paths with Viggo all morning, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. Before he could ponder the matter too intensively, it was lunch-time already. He got himself a sandwich and cup of coffee and moved to the table where his friends were sitting.
“Hey guys,” he said, sitting down on the empty space between Billy and Dom, who patted him on the back in hello.
“Hey, did Billy already tell you—” Dom started immediately, but Orlando interrupted him with a sweep of the hand.
“He did,” he said, taking a bite from his sandwich.
Orlando swallowed and looked at his friend questioningly. “And what?”
“What do you think of it?” Dom asked, almost thrilled, as if they were discussing the latest Jamiroquai CD instead of Viggo’s private life.
“What am I supposed to think of it?” Orlando said, slightly irritated. The conversation was tiring him already. “He can do whatever he wants, for all I care.”
A look of mild surprise crossed Dom’s face. “Hm,” he said, narrowing his eyes, but before Orlando could ask more his attention was attracted by Billy.
“Ah, there he is! Our Fellow-slut,” the Scot called. Orlando turned and saw Viggo approaching the table with a tray of food in his hands. “Looking tired, Vig, got any sleep at all last night?”
Viggo chuckled and choose not to comment. “Hi everybody,” he said, seating himself across Orlando and sending him a smile in hello. He did look tired, Orlando observed. He could see the circles beneath the other man’s eyes through the layers of concealer. Besides that, his eyes seemed to shine a suspicious lot. Or was that just him? Viggo, unaware he was being observed by more than just one pair of eyes, started on his lunch, apparently none too eager to talk.
“Well?” Billy asked when he could stand the silence no longer, which was after exactly two seconds. Curiosity coloured his voice and somehow Orlando knew the man beside him wouldn’t rest until he knew all the details, the gross ones in particular.
Viggo looked up from his tray. “Hm?”
“Aren’t you going to give us any details?”
Billy clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers impatiently. “About you getting laid last night.”
“Oh, that,” Viggo said, a grin appearing on his face. “Well… I got laid last night.”
The entire table, Orlando excluded, whistled or made any other sign of admiration at those words. Orlando’s eyes were searching for traces of falsehood on Viggo’s face, but he couldn’t find any. All he encountered was a silent, toothy grin and he could barely stand it. It seemed he knew Viggo less than he thought.
“Do elaborate,” Billy said. It was obvious that his curiosity was far from satisfied. Orlando felt like slapping him. He didn’t want to hear this, and yet a tiny part of him did. It annoyed him. It annoyed him terribly. Viggo, on the other hand, seemed to be amused by Billy’s impudence, something Orlando couldn’t understand even if he tried, which he didn’t.
“And why would I do that?” the older man said, cocking his head. The movement made strands of Aragorn-hair fall across his face and his blue eyes sparkled mirthfully.
“Because I want you to and you love me?” Billy put up his most irresistible smile and Viggo shook his head with a chuckle, giving in.
“What do you want to know?”
“How many times did you shag him?” Billy asked, eager written all over him.
“Was he any good?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“What was his name?”
“Forgot to ask.”
Orlando stood up so abruptly that he accidentally knocked over Billy’s coffee. Without so much as a glance or apology he turned and walked away with quick, angry strides, determined to put as much distance between himself and those childish morons as possible. There was only so much stupidity he could stand. Viggo had looked so incredibly smug, so annoyingly pleased with himself, as if picking up some guy in a bar was behaviour that deserved all the praising and attention in the world. The idiot. The stupid, motherfucking idiot. And then Billy, with his endless stream of questions, as if he were some sort of teenager high on testosterone. They were like children, only worse. Orlando kicked a stone in anger and released a growl of frustration. Damn them.
He started and turned to meet the source of the concerned voice, the voice that belonged to the person he had least wished to see right then. Viggo was standing a few feet away with that worried look on his face that only added to Orlando’s irritation and his blue eyes were filled with sympathy Orlando wished wasn’t there. He didn’t need sympathy. Not from this man, at least. The very sight of him made his insides churn violently.
“I am,” he said irritably, not wishing to talk. He turned away in the hope it might make Viggo take the hint and go away.
It didn’t work. Viggo took a few steps forward and grabbed his arm. “You’re obviously not,” he said, the concern in his voice becoming more pronounced.
Orlando furiously removed Viggo’s hand. How dared he touch him like that? “Leave me alone,” he said with all the politeness he could muster, which wasn’t much in his current state.
Viggo didn’t comply. “If you’d just tell me what’s—”
“I said leave me alone!” Orlando’s voice was trembling with anger and he felt fury passing though him like a hurricane. “You’re not deaf, are you?”
“Alright, alright.” Viggo held up his hands in a peacekeeping manner and backed away.
Orlando hadn’t failed to notice a flash of hurt in the older man’s eyes, but he didn’t allow himself to regret his outburst. After all it had been Viggo that had turned up here to bug him with his stupid questions, pretending to be sweet and caring while in the meantime he was fucking guys whose names he didn’t know. It had probably been some surfer with a stupid toothpaste smile that walked around bare-chested all the time to show off his muscles. His name had probably been Glenn, or Brandon. He undoubtedly had been a good lay, seeing that they had done it three times. Three times! Orlando cursed. He couldn’t stand the guy. Both of them. All of them.
In the days that followed Orlando and Viggo barely exchanged words. Orlando avoided the older man as much as he could, and even though they had a large number of scenes together, he managed to say only what was strictly necessary. Everybody noticed there was something going on, but nobody, Viggo included, could figure out the reason for the treatment Orlando was giving the other man. The first few days Viggo made great effort trying to fix whatever was wrong between them, but when he only got either a silence or a snarl in reply, he decided to drop the matter. His patience had its limits, too.
Orlando, in the meantime, was perfectly content with the status quo. He didn’t feel any desire to talk to Viggo. The older man had asked more than once what was wrong, but Orlando could only snort in derision. If he couldn’t even figure out himself what was wrong, he didn’t deserve to hear it from him. His cold shoulder-treatment didn’t restrict itself to Viggo, however. Orlando didn’t feel like talking to anybody. He was sick and tired of all the childish nonsense, all the senseless talking and joking about the most ridiculous of things. He’d had it. He was perfectly happy on his own.
“I’m perfectly happy on my own,” Orlando told the barkeeper, his hand closed around a bottle of beer.
“You said that before, son,” his conversation partner said, wiping the bar with a cloth. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Orlando took another swig of the beverage. “It’s the truth, man. I don’t need the guy.”
“Of course you don’t,” the barkeeper said, the agreeable sound of his voice indicating he had dealt with matters like these countless times before. It was a Saturday night and Orlando was the only costumer left. He didn’t mind having him at his bar, even though he complained an awful lot this evening. Oh well, as long as they paid he didn’t mind playing psychologist.
“He’s disappointed me, you know?” Orlando said with a sigh, resting his head on his hand. “We were good friends. Really, we were. But then he had to spoil it all and secretly screw around.”
The barkeeper stopped what he was doing to look at the young man sitting at his bar. “You expected him to ask permission?”
“I expected him not to screw at all.”
The barkeeper continued his cleaning of the bar. “I’d nearly think you were jealous.”
Orlando’s head shot up. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t willingly screw Vigs in a million years.”
“If you say so.”
“He’s not my type,” Orlando said, resuming his former position. “I usually go for something a little more breast-y.”
“Vig’s not breast-y.”
“Vig’s…” Orlando trailed off, his fingers playing absently with the opening of the bottle. His dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly and a sudden far-away expression formed on his face. The barkeeper paused to look at him, and when Orlando realized he was being watched he snapped out of his thoughts. “Vig’s annoying,” he concluded. “A liar. A slutty bastard.” He was gesturing wildly to emphasize his words. “Sticking his dick in a stranger like that. And the bragging! I still can’t believe it.” He felt better with every word coming from his mouth. “Damn it, I’m going to tell him.”
As if driven by an invisible force of inspiration Orlando placed the bottle none too gently on the counter and stood up from his stool a little too quickly for his balance to keep up with. “Fuck.” He gripped the edge of the bar and closed his eyes for a few seconds to keep the world from spinning.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” the barkeeper said, frowning. “You’re not the most sober person around at the moment.”
Orlando shot him a look from beneath his lashes. “I’m not drunk, alright? I know perfectly well what I’m doing. I’m just going to tell him how much I despise him and wish him a happy life with lots of surfdude-shagging.”
“Can’t that wait until morning?”
“No. I’ve waited long enough.” Orlando threw some money on the bar, quickly grabbed his jacket and left, leaving the barkeeper alone in his pub.
During the taxi-ride to Viggo’s place Orlando’s anger had all the time to fully return and by the time he was standing in front of Viggo’s door he was practically bursting with it. He rang the bell three times in a row and impatiently waited to be let in. The nocturnal air was cool around him; he hadn’t quite realized it was this late. He hoped Viggo would still be awake.
Footsteps approaching the door told him that yes, he was. Unless it was Liv, but somehow he knew it wasn’t. The door opened and moments later he stood face to face with the man he had taken lengths avoiding. Viggo’s face was a mask of silent surprise, and just when Orlando felt the tiniest sting of regret, his eyes fell on the shirt he was wearing. It was a shirt he had once given him. The sight made him roll his eyes and he roughly moved past the other man into the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” Viggo asked from behind him, his voice tired.
Orlando turned around, unable to hide his annoyance at the sight of the man leaning against the wall in that stupid shirt. “I have something to say to you.”
Viggo crossed his arms, a sigh escaping him. “Alright. Go ahead.”
“God, you’re so fucking annoying, you know that?” Orlando snapped, feeling heated and frustrated.
Viggo raised his eyebrows. “Look, if you came here just to yell—”
“Fuck you, Vig, Don’t patronize me. I’ve had enough of that.”
Orlando paced the hall, not quite finding a suitable way to release the anger inside him. Somehow it was much easier to have an imaginary conversation with someone than to actually say it in person. There were so many things he wanted to say, but now he had the chance, he didn’t know how to.
“You’ve had enough?” Viggo suddenly said, irritated. “Jesus. First you ignore me for a week and then you suddenly show up in the middle of the night and shout at me. And then, for some reason, you expect me to put up with all of your whims? Come on, get over yourself.”
It was the first time Viggo had raised his voice at him. It hurt him, and the fact that it did was the most infuriating thing he could imagine.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Just, shut up, alright?”
Viggo’s eyes were aflame with anger and he took a step forward. “Fuck that, Orlando. How old are you, twelve?”
Damn it. He loved it, he hated it when he used his name. “I’m old enough to know I’m sick of your pretence,” Orlando said heatedly.
Viggo let out a wry laugh. “My pretence? At least I don’t sulk for days like a fucking child.”
“I want nothing to do with you anymore, you hear me? Nothing!” Orlando’s body was trembling with emotion that was way out of control. His hands were clenched to tight fists and his nails were digging in his palms. He barely felt it.
“If that’s what you want then why are you here?” Viggo replied, his voice becoming louder with each word.
“Don’t you fucking pretend to know what I want!”
Orlando was beside himself with rage. He took two steps forward and Viggo was looking at him with eyes ablaze. He roughly shoved the older man against the wall and suddenly his fists were in his hair and his tongue in his mouth and he hated him, how dared he, how could he, he had betrayed him, betrayed him, and he didn’t know why he was kissing him but it was amazingly stupid, or stupidly amazing, he didn’t know, he didn’t know anything anymore. Except that this kiss was war and he was fighting, fighting for it and against it and he couldn’t, damn it, he couldn’t understand what he was doing or why he was even here. He felt tears of frustration well up inside him and he pulled away abruptly, averting his eyes.
“Fuck you, Vig,” he said, but the words lacked their former intensity. “Fuck you.”
Viggo remained silent, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “What’s going on here?” he asked eventually, his voice having resumed its usual subdued quality. He sounded confused.
“I don’t know,” the younger man answered truthfully, still not meeting Viggo’s eyes. His body shook with silent tears and he didn’t know why. “I don’t know, alright?”
“Look at me,” Viggo said, frustrated, and Orlando obeyed against his will because he felt he had no other options. “What’s going on?” Viggo put his hand on his shoulder, but Orlando brushed it off and turned away.
“I hate you, I hated you, I—”
“Talk to me Orlando, damn it,” Viggo interrupted him, taking hold of his wrist and spinning him around. “Talk to me, for God’s sake.”
Orlando lowered his eyes. He felt lost, he couldn’t understand what on earth was happening to him. “It’s just that you— I mean, Billy told me—” he said incoherently, not knowing what to say, where to start.
“What did Billy tell you?” Viggo asked, his voice much kinder than it had been moments ago.
His gentle voice shattered him and Orlando spilled everything he had been bottling up for days. “He told me about you and this, this… guy and I talked to Liv and then I thought that maybe it wasn’t true but then you just… you showed up and were practically boasting about it and I thought, I felt…”
He trailed off, finally noticing that Viggo was shaking with silent laughter. “What?” he said, stepping back and wiping away his remaining tears. He didn’t like being laughed at.
“Is that what this is all about?” Viggo asked, chuckling. “That story of me and this guy I supposedly shagged senseless?”
The dumbfounded look on Orlando’s face made him laugh out loud. “Oh my god, Orlando,” he said, “You actually believed that?”
Orlando blinked, not knowing what to say. “Well…”
“Don’t you know by now you should never believe anything Billy tells you?” Viggo asked, placing his hands on Orlando’s shoulders to force him to look him in the eye.
“But Liv said she heard you coming in,” Orlando protested weakly, wishing he could vanish into nothingness.
Viggo smiled. “I took him home with me, yes, but only to show him my paintings. He’s organizing an exhibition a few months from now. We met at a bar and he was leaving town the next day so we didn’t have the time to wait until morning. And I swear that’s all there was to it.”
Orlando cast his eyes downwards, feeling embarrassed. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t— I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because you never asked,” Viggo said, releasing his grip on him. “Look, it was obvious that Billy was hungering for a juicy story and so I gave him one. He wouldn’t have believed me if I had told him the truth anyway.”
Orlando let out a mirthless laugh. “No, I bet he wouldn’t have.” He sighed, inwardly cursing his stupidity. “Look, Vig, I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Viggo said, smiling. “I’m glad we sorted things out. I missed you, you know.”
“I missed you too.”
“Come here,” Viggo said, reaching out his arms in invitation. Orlando accepted gratefully and let Viggo envelop him in a hug. He sighed and relaxed against him, glad that things were back the way they once were. Except that they weren’t, not entirely. He rested his forehead against the other man’s and closed his eyes.
“What have you done to me, Vig?” he said, sighing.
“I don’t know, what have I done to you?” Viggo replied softly, releasing the warmth of his breath on Orlando’s face.
“I don’t know,” came Orlando’s whispered reply. Viggo’s fingers came up to move through his hair and when he opened his eyes he looked right into a pair of sparkling blue ones. He moved his head to properly look at the older man. “I couldn’t stand it, you know,” he said, his voice soft because somehow the atmosphere required it. “The thought…” He looked away, unable to finish.
“The thought of me with someone else,” Viggo said, caressing his back, his arms. Orlando nodded quietly in response, briefly looking up. Viggo smiled. “Quite understandable,” he said. “I mean, I can’t stand the thought of me with someone that isn’t you, either.”
Orlando’s head shot up. “Really?” he asked. Viggo made an affirmative noise. “Wow. That’s, that’s…”
“Yeah,” Viggo said, his lips curling into a smile.
Outside, the stars winked.
It was a Sunday morning and Dom was whistling softly to himself. He had never minded getting up early, especially not when it meant he could sit back in a make-up chair for two hours and enjoy a cup of tea while U2 was playing in the background and Neela was busy turning him into a Halfling. All that was missing was a nice back rub.
The peaceful atmosphere was brutally interrupted by an obnoxiously loud Billy, who came storming into the trailer like a whirlwind. Dom was incredibly fond of him, but sometimes he was just a little too much. This was one of those times.
“Dom, you’re going to love this,” Billy said, seating himself on the chair next to him.
“What is it?” Dom asked, the excitement in Billy’s voice raising his curiosity against his will.
“Orlando. Viggo. Shagging. Like rabbits,” Billy said in one breath, his eyes twinkling.
Dom gasped. “No!”
“Last night.” Billy crossed his arms triumphantly and Dom let out a low whistle. “Wicked, eh?” He fell back into the chair and spun it around. “A filthy Ranger and a prissy elf. Should be interesting.”
Dom chuckled. “Well, it’s better than an Uruk-Hai and a Hobbit, to name something.”
Billy threw him a look. “You’re disgusting, Dom.” He stood up and stretched his arms. “Anyway, I’m off to share the happy news with the rest of the guys. See you in a bit, yeah?”
“Sure,” Dom replied, watching his retreating back with a smile.
“He’s insane,” he said, more to himself than to Neela. “Orlando and Viggo?” He snorted. “As if. ”
~ The End ~
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