Strangers part 3
Dec. 12th, 2003 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aleathielPart three:
Part III
Orlando is pleased with how well his cooking turns out. Simple but satisfying, and he’s childishly flattered when Viggo tells him it was good. They pile the dishes in Orlando’s sink - he doesn’t have a dishwasher - and go sit in on the sofa. Viggo tucks his bare feet up under him, cross-legged, straight-backed, and Orlando thinks he looks like some tribal chieftain, like a king surveying a new landscape. Outside the first crash of thunder shatters across London, the lighting brightening the room for an instant even through the closed curtains.
Orlando draws his own knees up and clasps his hands around them, incredibly aware, for some reason, that Viggo’s toes are only millimetres from his own. Their conversations stutters and starts a bit, but then finds it’s flow once more and Orlando relaxes, letting down his guard completely as he can only do now in the presence of those he trusts. No interviewer to trick unwanted truths from him here, only Viggo.
It isn’t until Viggo yawns that Orlando looks at the clock and sees that it’s three in the morning. Someone has stolen away hours, he thinks, because surely they haven’t been sitting here this long?
Viggo moves to get up reluctantly. “Don’t be stupid - stay,” Orlando chides him.
“I don’t want to impose. Let me call a cab.”
Orlando grins. “Taxi, man. Taxi. You’re in London!”
Viggo rolls his eyes, “Taxi cab. Let me call one.”
“No, man, stay here. Sleep in my bed.”
There is an almost unidentifiable pause, but Orlando notices it. “I couldn’t throw you out. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Orlando can’t keep the teasing smile from curling his lips. “The king doesn’t share, huh? It’s a huge bed. No need for either of us to be on the sofa.”
Viggo recovers quickly, “Well, if you’re sure. Staying here in the warm is a much more attractive idea than going back out into that weather.”
“’Course I’m sure man. It’s no problem.”
Orlando strips to his boxers and slides between the sheets of the king-size bed while Viggo is in the bathroom. He’s left the lamp on by the other side of the bed, but flicked off the overhead bulb. He’s not sure where to look when Viggo comes back in. It’s not like he’s never seen the other man in his underwear before. It’s not like they’ve never shared a bed before, after nights out drinking when staggering to his own house by the beach was just never going to happen.
Perhaps it’s because they’re completely sober now. Or perhaps it’s because he hasn’t seen Viggo in such a long time. Or perhaps it’s because they aren’t in New Zealand, and that was then and this is now. But whatever the reason, Orlando knows this is different.
The bed sags as Viggo climbs onto the mattress and lies down, turning off the one remaining light. “So you found a replacement,” he comments quietly.
“For what?” Orlando whispers back. There’s no reason to whisper, but in the dark it just seems natural.
“For Kate.”
For one heart stopping moment Orlando thinks Viggo is talking about himself and the fact that they are sharing a bed. Then he remembers that Viggo has just been in the bathroom and that Sam’s bra is still hanging on the rail waiting to be returned.
He laughs. “That’s my sister’s,” he explains. “She left it here last month and I’ve not seen her to give it back.”
“Okay,” Viggo’s tone is teasingly sceptical.
Suddenly it matters immensely to Orlando that Viggo believe him. “It is Sam’s!” he says insistently.
“Okay, calm down.” Viggo soothes. “I’m sure it is. You’re far too earnest to be covering up. Earnest and young.”
Orlando frowns, this is slightly patronising.
There is a silence then Viggo chuckles under his breath, “Harrod’s sale!” Perhaps he doesn’t mean to, but it sets him off into a fit of laughter and Orlando can hear his breath and feel the bed shake with Viggo’s amusement.
“Okay. Explain yourself, old man. I still don’t get the joke!”
Viggo struggles to get his laughter in check, and Orlando feel him turn over, feels Viggo’s breath on his face now. A flare of lighting illuminates them for a second, and Orlando sees his friend in black and white, as if lit up by a camera flash. “Most people who make enough money to shop at Harrod’s don’t bother with the sales,” Viggo whispers. “I find it somewhat endearing that you still look at price tags. Don’t let wealth and fame change that.”
Orlando feels himself blush and kicks Viggo under the duvet. In response Viggo pulls his legs away, twists his upper body and catches Orlando’s hands, pinning them against his chest, his arms around Orlando. “Now go to sleep,” he breathes in Orlando’s ear before resting his forehead on the younger man’s shoulder and following his own advice.
Orlando lies awake, hearing Viggo’s breath slow to a gentle rhythm, and thinks that he might find great difficulty sleeping tonight.
TBC…
Part III
Orlando is pleased with how well his cooking turns out. Simple but satisfying, and he’s childishly flattered when Viggo tells him it was good. They pile the dishes in Orlando’s sink - he doesn’t have a dishwasher - and go sit in on the sofa. Viggo tucks his bare feet up under him, cross-legged, straight-backed, and Orlando thinks he looks like some tribal chieftain, like a king surveying a new landscape. Outside the first crash of thunder shatters across London, the lighting brightening the room for an instant even through the closed curtains.
Orlando draws his own knees up and clasps his hands around them, incredibly aware, for some reason, that Viggo’s toes are only millimetres from his own. Their conversations stutters and starts a bit, but then finds it’s flow once more and Orlando relaxes, letting down his guard completely as he can only do now in the presence of those he trusts. No interviewer to trick unwanted truths from him here, only Viggo.
It isn’t until Viggo yawns that Orlando looks at the clock and sees that it’s three in the morning. Someone has stolen away hours, he thinks, because surely they haven’t been sitting here this long?
Viggo moves to get up reluctantly. “Don’t be stupid - stay,” Orlando chides him.
“I don’t want to impose. Let me call a cab.”
Orlando grins. “Taxi, man. Taxi. You’re in London!”
Viggo rolls his eyes, “Taxi cab. Let me call one.”
“No, man, stay here. Sleep in my bed.”
There is an almost unidentifiable pause, but Orlando notices it. “I couldn’t throw you out. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Orlando can’t keep the teasing smile from curling his lips. “The king doesn’t share, huh? It’s a huge bed. No need for either of us to be on the sofa.”
Viggo recovers quickly, “Well, if you’re sure. Staying here in the warm is a much more attractive idea than going back out into that weather.”
“’Course I’m sure man. It’s no problem.”
Orlando strips to his boxers and slides between the sheets of the king-size bed while Viggo is in the bathroom. He’s left the lamp on by the other side of the bed, but flicked off the overhead bulb. He’s not sure where to look when Viggo comes back in. It’s not like he’s never seen the other man in his underwear before. It’s not like they’ve never shared a bed before, after nights out drinking when staggering to his own house by the beach was just never going to happen.
Perhaps it’s because they’re completely sober now. Or perhaps it’s because he hasn’t seen Viggo in such a long time. Or perhaps it’s because they aren’t in New Zealand, and that was then and this is now. But whatever the reason, Orlando knows this is different.
The bed sags as Viggo climbs onto the mattress and lies down, turning off the one remaining light. “So you found a replacement,” he comments quietly.
“For what?” Orlando whispers back. There’s no reason to whisper, but in the dark it just seems natural.
“For Kate.”
For one heart stopping moment Orlando thinks Viggo is talking about himself and the fact that they are sharing a bed. Then he remembers that Viggo has just been in the bathroom and that Sam’s bra is still hanging on the rail waiting to be returned.
He laughs. “That’s my sister’s,” he explains. “She left it here last month and I’ve not seen her to give it back.”
“Okay,” Viggo’s tone is teasingly sceptical.
Suddenly it matters immensely to Orlando that Viggo believe him. “It is Sam’s!” he says insistently.
“Okay, calm down.” Viggo soothes. “I’m sure it is. You’re far too earnest to be covering up. Earnest and young.”
Orlando frowns, this is slightly patronising.
There is a silence then Viggo chuckles under his breath, “Harrod’s sale!” Perhaps he doesn’t mean to, but it sets him off into a fit of laughter and Orlando can hear his breath and feel the bed shake with Viggo’s amusement.
“Okay. Explain yourself, old man. I still don’t get the joke!”
Viggo struggles to get his laughter in check, and Orlando feel him turn over, feels Viggo’s breath on his face now. A flare of lighting illuminates them for a second, and Orlando sees his friend in black and white, as if lit up by a camera flash. “Most people who make enough money to shop at Harrod’s don’t bother with the sales,” Viggo whispers. “I find it somewhat endearing that you still look at price tags. Don’t let wealth and fame change that.”
Orlando feels himself blush and kicks Viggo under the duvet. In response Viggo pulls his legs away, twists his upper body and catches Orlando’s hands, pinning them against his chest, his arms around Orlando. “Now go to sleep,” he breathes in Orlando’s ear before resting his forehead on the younger man’s shoulder and following his own advice.
Orlando lies awake, hearing Viggo’s breath slow to a gentle rhythm, and thinks that he might find great difficulty sleeping tonight.
TBC…
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 08:35 am (UTC)Need I say more?
no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 08:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 10:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-12 04:27 pm (UTC)*takes another small step towards being a RPS slash ho...
more please? :)
no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 02:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-14 05:26 pm (UTC)Oh and the Harrods Sale? What had me pondering was can you imagine the Chaos if Orlando opened the Sale? Half the people would stampede round the store as usual but the other half and their daughters would make straight for Orli!
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 04:22 am (UTC)I actually put that in because in some interview Orlando made a comment about going to the Harrod's sale after the interview, so that he could buy things for his apartment.
I'm glad you like the fic!
no subject
Date: 2004-02-06 05:18 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-07 12:53 am (UTC)