vigorli

Title: Tea a Drink with Jam and Bread
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: PG
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: The very patient

silvan_lady; but I have meddled, so all mistakes are mine.
Dedication:This is for

gattodoro and

silvan_lady. Just because.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, unfortunately.
Summary: Another day in the life of ‘The Conductor & The Concert Violinist’
Word Count: 1,700

“Well, this is nice,” Orlando said flatly, as he nudged his chair into place at their table and then glanced around the elegantly decorated dining room at the other tea takers who were seated at similar tables, all laden with white china and silver cutlery; ninety per cent of them were women. “It doesn’t make us look at all gay.”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“No, it’s okay, we’re here now and I’m hungry.” Orlando surveyed the room again. “So, is this what passes for wild entertainment in Harrogate then?”

“It is what everyone does when visiting the town, apparently. So I suppose that counts as entertainment.” Viggo surveyed the room too. “I’m not sure how wild it is though.”

“Who told you it’s what everyone does?”

“Sean did,” Viggo said, “when he heard we were coming up here he told me it was a very genteel sort of town, so we should try to behave ourselves, and we should definitely have afternoon tea at Betty’s.”

Technically, this was a working trip for Viggo; he was giving a series of lectures at the Harrogate Conference Centre to young musicians from all over the North of England. But Orlando, having nothing better to do, had decided to come along and support his partner; or as Viggo had posited, get in three more days of sex before he had to leave for Paris and a fortnight of solitary amusement. This morning he had patiently endured Viggo’s lecture on diatonic harmony because he had been promised a sumptuous afternoon tea.

“Hmmm.” Orlando considered for a few moments. “By genteel did he mean full of old people?”

“He said it was a popular place to retire to, so that is probable.”

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of retiring to Yorkshire.”

“What’s wrong with Yorkshire? It’s where Sean comes from.”

“Exactly my point, it’s a bit Northern. And it’s usually freezing.”

“I’ll tell Sean you said that.”

“I don’t care.” Orlando shrugged. “I’m not talking to him since that awful night in Berlin.”

“You can’t blame Sean, he didn’t force you to drink all that beer.”

“It was his idea though, and in fact he might have forced me, I can’t remember either way.”

Viggo laughed. “Well, I like Yorkshire. The scenery is beautiful, the natives are friendly and life here is so much more relaxed than in London.”

“Really?” Orlando glanced around the room again. “It seems pretty formal in here and certainly way over the top just for tea and cake. If we were looking for a relaxed environment we should have gone to Greggs.”

Viggo treated his lover to a very hard stare. “You promised you wouldn’t bring that up.”

“I promised I wouldn't bring it up, often.” Orlando grinned. He liked to annoy his partner; the hard stare he received for his efforts was a bit of a turn on. He briefly fantasised about sweeping all the fancy crockery off the table and bending Viggo over the heavily starched, white linen tablecloth and then regretted it because there was an inevitable reaction in his pants. He adjusted the usefully large, similarly starched, white linen napkin to ensure it was covering any sign of his arousal and, for distraction, took a sip from the glass of champagne that a smiling but very proper waitress, wearing a shirt and tie and a pristine, white apron that neatly skimmed the floor, had just poured.

“You’re currently averaging at least once a month,” Viggo said with a pained sigh.

“But I don’t regard that evening as a disappointment.” Orlando tilted his head and smiled sweetly. “It was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me; travelling two hundred miles just to buy me a Greggs pasty.” Orlando paused as the hard stare reemerged with a vengeance, he shifted in his chair to relieve the pressure then continued in a lowered voice. “I bet if I stood up in this tea room and described the episode, every one of these women would end up with a sappy smile on her face and they’d all declare, with tears in their eyes, that you are the best boyfriend in the world.”

“If you do that, Orlando,” Viggo said levelly and with a completely straight face. “I will disembowel you with my butter knife.”

Orlando laughed delightedly and slightly too loudly, and the heads of a large number of the room’s other occupants turned towards him, their faces breaking into predictable smiles at the sight of the handsome young man with the musical laugh. There was possibly a modicum of drooling.

“On the other hand,” Viggo said, having observed the mass appreciation for his partner. “I could stand up and tell them how very cruel you are as a boyfriend.”

Orlando laughed again. This was giving Viggo pleasure on several levels; he liked to hear Orlando laugh, naturally, but he also took a certain conceited pride in being with a man who was now an obvious object of desire for a large percentage of the other customers, and also, he noticed, several of the servers in their crisp white uniforms.

Their own waitress appeared with two saucers, each containing a tiny bowl of prawns adorned with a couple of wispy green fronds, and a minute triangle of bread; she announced it as their appetiser. Orlando studied it critically, if she’d brought him something larger than the accompanying tea spoon he could have disposed of it in one mouthful. Viggo smiled and thanked her in his usual polite manner but she hovered, looking expectantly at Orlando.

Viggo kicked him under the table.

“Ow!” Orlando looked up startled, and with an almost imperceptible but wholly commanding facial movement, the kind that conductors routinely used to convey their directions to an entire orchestra, Viggo indicated the hopeful young lady. Orlando dutifully smiled up at her as charmingly as he knew how and thanked her; he had to work hard to make it sound sincere. He hoped the forthcoming sandwiches would be more substantial. The waitress, whose posture thus far would not have disgraced a Guards officer, relaxed her shoulders into a delighted little shrug and swung off happily to serve someone else.

“Heartbreaker,” Viggo accused, with a proud smile.

Orlando rolled his eyes. “Ahhh, I see why you brought me here, you want to get some vicarious gratification from watching poor, deluded young women swoon over me.”

“Some of the men look quite interested too,” Viggo said with a smirk. “Including the pianist.” He had noticed the young man’s furtive glances in their direction.

Orlando turned his head to inspect the corner of the room where the grand piano was situated and appraised the player. “Hmmm, he actually looks rather like one of those students you were lecturing to this morning, so as a musician, I’m guessing he’s swooning over you. Or maybe, he’s just relishing being in the golden glow of your divine presence.”

“You do talk rubbish,” Viggo said sternly but his mouth twitched with amusement. “And if that were the case, I would have thought he might have put more effort into his performance.”

“I think he’s required to provide soothing background music not exhibit his artistic range.” Orlando said. “Would you like me to go over and request some Beethoven?”

“I would not,” Viggo said emphatically, “But perhaps you could request that he pay more attention to his phrasing.”

Orlando laughed and shook his head. “I think you’re scaring him.” He too had noticed some stuttered chords. “Leave the poor guy alone and concentrate on the food.” Then he picked up his bowl of prawns, tipped the contents into his mouth, chewed briefly and swallowed. When he replaced the bowl onto the saucer, Viggo was staring at him in horror. “What?” he asked innocently.

“How could you?” Viggo spluttered.

“I’m hungry,” Orlando pouted.

Viggo pursed his lips but couldn’t stop a burst of laughter. “I take you out for a refined afternoon tea and you behave like a savage.”

“I thought you liked me savage,” Orlando purred, his tone was deep and seductive and clearly audible to most of the neighbouring tables. Viggo heard the simultaneous rattling of a dozen teacups but didn’t dare look round. Orlando didn’t even attempt to hide a smug grin.

Viggo opened his mouth to deliver another reprimand but this was interrupted by the arrival of an army of staff bearing the teapots and cake stands and all the other accoutrements that the taking of afternoon tea seemed to require. Orlando frowned; the sandwiches and the cakes were exceedingly dainty and also somewhat disappointing in quantity. “Did what’s his name, that guy of Miranda’s, book this place for you?”

“You mean Astin?” Viggo responded, puzzled. “Of course not, Liv booked it.”

“Of course she did,” Orlando sighed and poured himself a cup of the Taylor’s Yorkshire Gold - when in Rome and all that. “Oh, but wait… Sean told you to come here, didn’t he? He was obviously messing with you. He just wanted us to have another disappointing meal.”

“You just said the evening at Greggs wasn’t a disappointment,” Viggo protested.

“The evening wasn’t but the food was fu…”

Viggo raised his eyebrows in alarm and Orlando prudently aborted his description. He glanced quickly round the room. No one seemed to have noticed. “Full of flaky pastry,” he continued with a triumphant nod.

Viggo, again, tried and failed not to laugh. Then he composed himself and deployed the especially hard stare. “I take it,” he said, slowly and deliberately, and not particularly quietly, “that I am not satisfying your voracious appetite.”

There was an abrupt cessation of conversation in the immediate area but the clink of tea cups hitting saucers was almost deafening and a mangled chord escaped the piano.

Orlando’s eyes widened, his expression a mixture of horror and mirth. “You wicked man.” he mouthed. Then he added in a hissed whisper, “It will take me about five minutes to demolish this lot and after that we are going straight back to the hotel.”

Viggo grinned back at him. “As you wish.”

“Although…” Orlando reached for the sandwiches and winked cheekily at his lover. “We might have to stop at a Greggs on the way for a couple of gingerbread men.”

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