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vigorli2005-06-06 02:10 pm
zebraljb.livejournal.com) wrote in vigorli2005-06-06 02:10 pm
The House Always Wins 13/? (ViggOrli)
Author: Lara
Rating: This chapter, R for language, I guess
Disclaimer: Use of Oceans 11 characters/plot, and these men, totally without permission, and all made up.
Summary: A twisted take on Oceans 11
When Bean returned to Viggo’s hotel room, he found a note on the kitchen table. They were all to meet the next day for dinner, at the MGM Grand’s buffet dining room. Bean groaned, crushing the note in his fist. Viggo was lucky. Bean would not kick Viggo’s ass in a public place.
“Mr. Bloom. The usual?” The host held out a menu, but the young man at the table refused it. He wore a grey suit jacket instead of the oversized sweater, and his curls were tamed into relative submission.
“Yes, Jeremy, that’s fine, thank you.” Orlando Bloom flipped his napkin into his lap and scratched his fingers over the tablecloth. A hole, probably caused by a cigarette. Karl would explode if he saw it. Orlando slid his bread plate over the offending spot.
A waiter appeared almost immediately, holding a steaming bowl over his head. “Your vegetable stir fry, Mr. Bloom. Will Mr. Urban be joining you?”
“I’m not sure, thank you,” Orlando said. “Smells delicious.” The waiter nodded and walked away.
“Better be careful…I think that’s a piece of chicken,” a voice said behind him.
Orlando froze, then lightly said, “I think it’s a water chestnut.”
“Can I sit down?” Viggo slid into the seat across the table.
“No,” Orlando said, frowning as Viggo sat anyway.
Viggo peered into Orlando’s bowl. “Still a vegetarian, I see.”
“Still do something when I ask you not to, I see.” Orlando’s face was expressionless. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“You’re with Karl Urban,” Viggo said.
“I work for Mr. Urban.”
“And what kind of…work…do you do?” Viggo took Orlando’s fork and picked a bean sprout from the steaming bowl.
“I am a curator for the new exhibit, but I’m sure you knew that already,” Orlando said. “I really wish you’d get your fork out of my food, and your thieving ass out of my life!”
“I was in the neighborhood, saw you here, thought I’d say hello,” Viggo said. He smiled, a sweet smile that he reserved only for Orlando. “Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you know exactly what is and isn’t a crime,” Orlando replied, smiling just as sweetly. His smile was fake, and Viggo knew it. “Maybe one day they’ll make breaking someone’s heart as you lie to their face a crime, and then they’ll put you away for good.”
“Orlando, if you were having a guest for lunch, you could have told me. I believe the idiots on my staff can count to three,” a voice behind Orlando said. Viggo watched Orlando’s smile turn from forced to delighted in an instant. “Karl Urban,” the man said, holding out a hand. “You’re in my chair.”
“I didn’t see your name on it,” Viggo said, standing. “Viggo Mortensen. I’m an old friend of Orlando’s.”
“All these chairs have my name on them. It’s my hotel, my casino, my restaurant, my chairs…” Urban’s eyes slid over to Orlando. “My everything.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Viggo moved aside. “Orlando, it was lovely to see you.” He paused. “Don’t you have a hug for an old friend?”
“Of course.” Orlando tossed down his napkin and stood, every movement graceful. “Get the fuck out of my life, Viggo,” he whispered in Viggo’s ear as he slapped Viggo on the back.
Bean was the first person to arrive at dinner the next night, followed by John, Ian, Dom and Billy. Elijah was in next, and Bean was relieved to see no embarrassing marks along the pale neck. Sean Astin came in with Viggo. They had decided to all sit together, fabricating a story about a business convention, if anyone asked. They still kept their voices low, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves.
Bean was able to contain himself until the salads were served, then he let loose. “Viggo, what the flying FUCK were you thinking?”
Forks and glasses froze in midair. Everyone turned to look at Bean. “Excuse me?” Viggo asked pleasantly.
“Here I thought this was about money. I thought it was about getting revenge for Ian,” Bean growled. “But no, obviously, it’s more than that.” He looked around the table. “Orlando Bloom is the curator of the literary exhibit.”
John choked on his wine. Ian set his fork down with a sigh. “What?” Sean Astin looked around blankly. “Who’s Orlando Bloom?”
“Viggo’s ex, my dear boy,” Ian answered. “A sweet, beautiful English rose, who dumped our esteemed leader when he learned that Viggo had not turned away from a life of crime, though he had promised Orlando that it was over.” Ian raised an eyebrow. “Am I correct?”
“Well, not exactly, but…” Viggo was at a loss for words, a rare occurrence. “Yes, he’s the curator. But the reasons Bean gave are my true reasons.” No one spoke. “God, lighten up, everyone. I would never do anything to jeopardize your lives.” Dave snorted, causing everyone to stare at him.
“Sorry.”
“You’ve already jeopardized the entire operation,” Bean hissed. “There’s no way you can be objective about this. You also can no longer show your face anywhere NEAR those three casinos.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, lad,” John agreed. “It’s too dangerous.”
“And who the hell is going to take my place?”
“Elijah,” Bean said. Elijah’s mouth fell open, as did Viggo’s.
“He’s only a kid. There’s no way he can do this.”
“Excuse me?” Elijah snapped. “I’m not a kid.”
“He’s the only one who does not already have a crucial part in the actual plan, Vig,” Bean said. “You know it’s true. He can do this. He’s obviously got a good imagination, and we can use him.” Bean looked at Elijah. “This is serious, kid.”
“I know.” He looked at Viggo. “I’ve only been honest since day one. You can trust me and you know it.”
“He’s Gordo Wood’s son, Vig,” Bean said quietly, and heard the others gasp. “He’s got it in his genes.”
“Whatever,” Viggo said, tossing his fork onto his plate. “Obviously I’m outvoted.”
“Obviously you brought this on yourself,” the normally quiet Sean Astin said, and Viggo stared at him. “I don’t know your story, with this guy, I mean, but I can tell by the way you got so defensive that you still care about him. We can’t…it can’t be an issue, Viggo. I admire you, and the way you’re leading us, but in this instance, Beanie’s right.”
“Fine,” Viggo said, calming down a bit. “We’ll just have to rework some of the plans, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Bean said, heaving a sigh of relief.
“What’s the story…with the pretty Orlando guy?” Elijah said, cornering Bean outside the restroom. Bean looked around, pulling Elijah aside.
“I’m not sure how they met. Something simple like a bookstore or something, ya know? I think, for both of them, it was love at first sight.” Bean chuckled. “I’ve never seen Viggo so tongue-tied before. And Orlando’s a really nice guy, smart, funny, an actual daredevil under all that book learning.” Bean sighed. “He wanted Viggo to quit, and Viggo was going to…and then he found one more job, the big one, the one that would set them up for life. Orlando didn’t like it, felt that Vig lied to him…and that was that.”
“Shit,” Elijah whispered. “Think he’s trying to get Orlando back?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Bean replied. “Question is…does Orlando want to be gotten back from Karl Urban?”
Rating: This chapter, R for language, I guess
Disclaimer: Use of Oceans 11 characters/plot, and these men, totally without permission, and all made up.
Summary: A twisted take on Oceans 11
When Bean returned to Viggo’s hotel room, he found a note on the kitchen table. They were all to meet the next day for dinner, at the MGM Grand’s buffet dining room. Bean groaned, crushing the note in his fist. Viggo was lucky. Bean would not kick Viggo’s ass in a public place.
“Mr. Bloom. The usual?” The host held out a menu, but the young man at the table refused it. He wore a grey suit jacket instead of the oversized sweater, and his curls were tamed into relative submission.
“Yes, Jeremy, that’s fine, thank you.” Orlando Bloom flipped his napkin into his lap and scratched his fingers over the tablecloth. A hole, probably caused by a cigarette. Karl would explode if he saw it. Orlando slid his bread plate over the offending spot.
A waiter appeared almost immediately, holding a steaming bowl over his head. “Your vegetable stir fry, Mr. Bloom. Will Mr. Urban be joining you?”
“I’m not sure, thank you,” Orlando said. “Smells delicious.” The waiter nodded and walked away.
“Better be careful…I think that’s a piece of chicken,” a voice said behind him.
Orlando froze, then lightly said, “I think it’s a water chestnut.”
“Can I sit down?” Viggo slid into the seat across the table.
“No,” Orlando said, frowning as Viggo sat anyway.
Viggo peered into Orlando’s bowl. “Still a vegetarian, I see.”
“Still do something when I ask you not to, I see.” Orlando’s face was expressionless. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“You’re with Karl Urban,” Viggo said.
“I work for Mr. Urban.”
“And what kind of…work…do you do?” Viggo took Orlando’s fork and picked a bean sprout from the steaming bowl.
“I am a curator for the new exhibit, but I’m sure you knew that already,” Orlando said. “I really wish you’d get your fork out of my food, and your thieving ass out of my life!”
“I was in the neighborhood, saw you here, thought I’d say hello,” Viggo said. He smiled, a sweet smile that he reserved only for Orlando. “Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you know exactly what is and isn’t a crime,” Orlando replied, smiling just as sweetly. His smile was fake, and Viggo knew it. “Maybe one day they’ll make breaking someone’s heart as you lie to their face a crime, and then they’ll put you away for good.”
“Orlando, if you were having a guest for lunch, you could have told me. I believe the idiots on my staff can count to three,” a voice behind Orlando said. Viggo watched Orlando’s smile turn from forced to delighted in an instant. “Karl Urban,” the man said, holding out a hand. “You’re in my chair.”
“I didn’t see your name on it,” Viggo said, standing. “Viggo Mortensen. I’m an old friend of Orlando’s.”
“All these chairs have my name on them. It’s my hotel, my casino, my restaurant, my chairs…” Urban’s eyes slid over to Orlando. “My everything.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Viggo moved aside. “Orlando, it was lovely to see you.” He paused. “Don’t you have a hug for an old friend?”
“Of course.” Orlando tossed down his napkin and stood, every movement graceful. “Get the fuck out of my life, Viggo,” he whispered in Viggo’s ear as he slapped Viggo on the back.
Bean was the first person to arrive at dinner the next night, followed by John, Ian, Dom and Billy. Elijah was in next, and Bean was relieved to see no embarrassing marks along the pale neck. Sean Astin came in with Viggo. They had decided to all sit together, fabricating a story about a business convention, if anyone asked. They still kept their voices low, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves.
Bean was able to contain himself until the salads were served, then he let loose. “Viggo, what the flying FUCK were you thinking?”
Forks and glasses froze in midair. Everyone turned to look at Bean. “Excuse me?” Viggo asked pleasantly.
“Here I thought this was about money. I thought it was about getting revenge for Ian,” Bean growled. “But no, obviously, it’s more than that.” He looked around the table. “Orlando Bloom is the curator of the literary exhibit.”
John choked on his wine. Ian set his fork down with a sigh. “What?” Sean Astin looked around blankly. “Who’s Orlando Bloom?”
“Viggo’s ex, my dear boy,” Ian answered. “A sweet, beautiful English rose, who dumped our esteemed leader when he learned that Viggo had not turned away from a life of crime, though he had promised Orlando that it was over.” Ian raised an eyebrow. “Am I correct?”
“Well, not exactly, but…” Viggo was at a loss for words, a rare occurrence. “Yes, he’s the curator. But the reasons Bean gave are my true reasons.” No one spoke. “God, lighten up, everyone. I would never do anything to jeopardize your lives.” Dave snorted, causing everyone to stare at him.
“Sorry.”
“You’ve already jeopardized the entire operation,” Bean hissed. “There’s no way you can be objective about this. You also can no longer show your face anywhere NEAR those three casinos.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, lad,” John agreed. “It’s too dangerous.”
“And who the hell is going to take my place?”
“Elijah,” Bean said. Elijah’s mouth fell open, as did Viggo’s.
“He’s only a kid. There’s no way he can do this.”
“Excuse me?” Elijah snapped. “I’m not a kid.”
“He’s the only one who does not already have a crucial part in the actual plan, Vig,” Bean said. “You know it’s true. He can do this. He’s obviously got a good imagination, and we can use him.” Bean looked at Elijah. “This is serious, kid.”
“I know.” He looked at Viggo. “I’ve only been honest since day one. You can trust me and you know it.”
“He’s Gordo Wood’s son, Vig,” Bean said quietly, and heard the others gasp. “He’s got it in his genes.”
“Whatever,” Viggo said, tossing his fork onto his plate. “Obviously I’m outvoted.”
“Obviously you brought this on yourself,” the normally quiet Sean Astin said, and Viggo stared at him. “I don’t know your story, with this guy, I mean, but I can tell by the way you got so defensive that you still care about him. We can’t…it can’t be an issue, Viggo. I admire you, and the way you’re leading us, but in this instance, Beanie’s right.”
“Fine,” Viggo said, calming down a bit. “We’ll just have to rework some of the plans, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Bean said, heaving a sigh of relief.
“What’s the story…with the pretty Orlando guy?” Elijah said, cornering Bean outside the restroom. Bean looked around, pulling Elijah aside.
“I’m not sure how they met. Something simple like a bookstore or something, ya know? I think, for both of them, it was love at first sight.” Bean chuckled. “I’ve never seen Viggo so tongue-tied before. And Orlando’s a really nice guy, smart, funny, an actual daredevil under all that book learning.” Bean sighed. “He wanted Viggo to quit, and Viggo was going to…and then he found one more job, the big one, the one that would set them up for life. Orlando didn’t like it, felt that Vig lied to him…and that was that.”
“Shit,” Elijah whispered. “Think he’s trying to get Orlando back?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Bean replied. “Question is…does Orlando want to be gotten back from Karl Urban?”
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