My Confession 12/? VigOrli
Oct. 13th, 2005 11:19 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
zebraljb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliauthor: zebraljb
rating: up to NC17
disclaimer: not mine, not mine, but I wish they were. I don't know them at all.
note: thanks again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
musiquephan for the beta.
MY CONFESSION
Twelve
Orlando opened his mouth and shut it, as his brain and vocal chords did not seem to be connected. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Viggo. Hello. Welcome to my home.” He took in Viggo’s tight blue jeans and grey sweatshirt, desperately wishing he himself were wearing something nicer than his oldest flannel pajama bottoms, plain white t-shirt with the big tear in the collar, and worn sandals.
“Hi, Orlando. Thank you. It’s a beautiful house.” Viggo stood frozen to the spot. “I…didn’t realize it was yours. Truly a gorgeous place.”
Orlando nodded his thanks and turned to Sean. “Beanie.”
“I’m gonna go apologize to that maid of yours. I think I insulted her.” Sean darted into the house before Orlando could yell.
“Housekeeper. She’s a housekeeper,” Orlando murmured absently. He was torn between following Sean and tearing him a brand spanking new arsehole, or staying and drinking in the beauty that was Viggo. He chose the latter, and prettier, of the two. He turned back to Viggo. “So. Uh, won’t you please come in? I was just having breakfast…the Hobbits are still in bed.”
“The Hobbits are here?” Viggo stood uncertainly.
“What exactly did Sean tell you?”
“That he was thinking of buying a house outside the city and wanted me to help him check it out. Wanted an artistic eye or something.” Viggo shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Orlando. I had no idea we were coming out here.”
“I knew he was coming, but I thought it was in a few days, alone.” Orlando motioned to the house. “Really, Vig. It’s chilly out here. Please come in.”
“Just until I can convince him to go,” Viggo finally said, following Orlando up the steps. “This place is something,” he added as they went inside.
Orlando snorted. “You should have seen it before. I was such an idiot. I let a designer fill the place with crap crap and more crap.” He pointed to some paintings on the wall in the foyer, graphic portraits of a battle during the Napoleonic Wars. “That’s the only thing I still have up in here, simply because I haven’t found anything else to put up there yet. I donated a pile of stuff to the town…” Orlando led the way through the rooms to the balcony.
“Do you really think they have a need for something like that?”
Orlando counted to ten before stopping and looking at Viggo. No need to bite his head off; what he was thinking was perfectly logical. “Well, they were building a new library at the school and were holding a fundraiser. They auctioned almost everything and kept the money.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Viggo sheepishly.
Orlando smiled, a shy smile that went right to Viggo’s heart. “Don’t be. Perfectly understandable.” He motioned to a small door. “Do you mind if I show you something?”
“Of course not. Lead on.” Viggo stepped back, allowing Orlando to walk ahead of him. His eyes ran the length of Orlando’s back, lingering on the tight backside under the baggy pajama pants.
“I actually, well…I hope it’s okay to say this. I picked everything in here absolutely by myself…and thought of you while I did it.” Orlando opened the door and moved aside so Viggo could walk in alone.
Viggo gave him a curious smile as he entered the tiny library. Bookshelves encircled the room, all going to about chest-high on Orlando. The rest of the walls were covered in paintings. A large desk sat by the window, made of the same light pine that decorated the rest of the room. Every painting was a landscape, except for one abstract by the door. “Oh, Orlando. These are gorgeous.” Viggo walked around, inspecting the paintings one by one.
“He’s local, believe it or not. A kid, really, only twenty. He has such promise…and not one day of education. All pure talent,” Orlando said proudly.
“Unbelievable.” Viggo finished his circle of the room and smiled at Orlando, who stood in the doorway. His smile faded as he noticed the abstract by the door. “Well, that’s not by a local artist.”
“No.” Orlando blushed slightly, brushing imaginary dust from the frame. “That’s…from my private collection.”
“I never thought you’d keep it.” Viggo bent down to squint at his own signature in the bottom of the painting. “I gave it to you so long ago…”
“Are you serious?” Orlando gasped. Viggo stared at him and he cleared his throat. “I mean, hell, Vig, ya never know how much those things might be worth someday,” he tried to tease.
“Yes,” Viggo said, trying to smile back. “You, ah, mentioned something about breakfast?”
“Of course. Please follow me,” Orlando said politely, leading the way out to the balcony. They saw Sean and Elijah chatting at the small table. Orlando stopped walking. “We, uh…”
“I’m not so hungry, actually,” Viggo said. He didn’t want a confrontation with Sean in front of Elijah.
“You know what? I’m sure anything on that table we can find in the kitchen. Emily won’t be offended if we eat there. I end up there in the middle of the night most of the time anyway.” Orlando gave a small shrug. “I have a hard time making it through the night.”
He led the way down the stairs to the kitchen, his sandals slapping on the steps. “This place is a mansion,” Viggo commented.
Orlando gave a real smile. “I used to call it my “country house.” I originally liked the idea of having a big place that made me look gentry and titled.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it could be home.” Orlando ran a hand over the worn wooden railing. “It has history. A king or two has slept here. A duchess was murdered here. Babies were born here, titled men died here. It just has something. I’m glad I realized it, though, before I buried it all under that designer bullshit.” He opened the creaking door and led Viggo into the kitchen. “State of the art appliances and such…but that’s the original fireplace.” Orlando pointed to the large brick hole in the wall. “Emily actually bakes bread in there…and I think we still have…” He dug through cupboards until he found a wrapped loaf. “Here. And milk…” Orlando opened the large refrigerator and pulled out milk and cheese. “Made by a local dairy,” he said almost proudly.
Viggo sat down, allowing Orlando to serve him. “You belong here about a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said before he thought.
Orlando smiled. “That is the best compliment I’ve had in a long time.” He gave Viggo a plate of bread and cheese before sitting down himself. “I can make you coffee if you…”
“No. I’ve had three cups already today. Thanks.” Viggo bit into the bread. “Delicious.”
Orlando smiled at Viggo, resisting the urge to reach over and brush the crumbs from Viggo’s chin. “I really did have no clue you were coming today,” he said instead. “Shocked the hell outta me.”
“Me, too. I may have to throttle him,” Viggo said.
“I’ll help. I might not do so much of the throttling, but I can hold him down,” Orlando offered.
“It might be a two man job,” Viggo agreed. He chewed thoughtfully, looking around the dark kitchen and back at Orlando. “You look happy here.”
“Yeah,” Orlando said, nodding slowly. “I can hide here. As far as I know, the people in the town don’t say much about me…I can keep a low profile. They don’t get the rumor rags, they don’t watch Entertainment Tonight.” He ducked his head, curls falling over his eyes. “I don’t have to hear about my career or lack thereof, my marriage or lack thereof, my talent or lack thereof.”
“I guess you do have a lot to hide from.” Viggo had never truly considered that. He was lucky in that he could still pretty much blend into a crowd.
“I know it’s childish, really, not to face my life, but sometimes you need a safe haven,” Orlando said, studying the table.
“Hey.” Viggo put a finger under Orlando’s chin, tilting it up before he could stop himself. “You’re not a child. It’s okay to need sanctuary sometimes.” Viggo blushed slightly. “I had no right telling you to grow up. You’re definitely a man now.”
“Even though I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat lately?” Orlando said. His eyes closed as he concentrated on the touch of Viggo’s finger.
“Yeah, you have,” Viggo agreed. His hand shook slightly as his palm came up to cup the soft cheek. “But you’re most definitely a man.”
Orlando swallowed deeply, letting his cheek rest in Viggo’s palm before his eyes fluttered open. “I’ve always thought that being a man meant owning up to your mistakes. And fuck but I’ve made a lot, especially when it comes to you. I’m so sorry, Viggo.” Orlando turned his head, planting a soft kiss in Viggo’s palm. “You were right. All along. I was afraid to be myself. I put my career before my heart, and before yours, too. I fell in love with you the second your lips met mine, and I hid it. I lived a lie. I’ve been living it ever since, and I’m sorry.” Orlando blinked back tears, tears of relief as well as loss. “I wanted you to know. No matter what we become from now on, friends or not, I wanted you to know that you were right and that I was a twat, in Beanie’s words.” Orlando chuckled slightly at the word. “And I still love you. Never EVER stopped.”
“We’ll still be friends,” Viggo murmured, his eyes drinking in the face he loved. “But I hope it’s something more.” His hand slid around to the back of Orlando’s neck, pulling him forward for a tender kiss.
rating: up to NC17
disclaimer: not mine, not mine, but I wish they were. I don't know them at all.
note: thanks again to
musiquephan for the beta.MY CONFESSION
Twelve
Orlando opened his mouth and shut it, as his brain and vocal chords did not seem to be connected. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Viggo. Hello. Welcome to my home.” He took in Viggo’s tight blue jeans and grey sweatshirt, desperately wishing he himself were wearing something nicer than his oldest flannel pajama bottoms, plain white t-shirt with the big tear in the collar, and worn sandals.
“Hi, Orlando. Thank you. It’s a beautiful house.” Viggo stood frozen to the spot. “I…didn’t realize it was yours. Truly a gorgeous place.”
Orlando nodded his thanks and turned to Sean. “Beanie.”
“I’m gonna go apologize to that maid of yours. I think I insulted her.” Sean darted into the house before Orlando could yell.
“Housekeeper. She’s a housekeeper,” Orlando murmured absently. He was torn between following Sean and tearing him a brand spanking new arsehole, or staying and drinking in the beauty that was Viggo. He chose the latter, and prettier, of the two. He turned back to Viggo. “So. Uh, won’t you please come in? I was just having breakfast…the Hobbits are still in bed.”
“The Hobbits are here?” Viggo stood uncertainly.
“What exactly did Sean tell you?”
“That he was thinking of buying a house outside the city and wanted me to help him check it out. Wanted an artistic eye or something.” Viggo shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Orlando. I had no idea we were coming out here.”
“I knew he was coming, but I thought it was in a few days, alone.” Orlando motioned to the house. “Really, Vig. It’s chilly out here. Please come in.”
“Just until I can convince him to go,” Viggo finally said, following Orlando up the steps. “This place is something,” he added as they went inside.
Orlando snorted. “You should have seen it before. I was such an idiot. I let a designer fill the place with crap crap and more crap.” He pointed to some paintings on the wall in the foyer, graphic portraits of a battle during the Napoleonic Wars. “That’s the only thing I still have up in here, simply because I haven’t found anything else to put up there yet. I donated a pile of stuff to the town…” Orlando led the way through the rooms to the balcony.
“Do you really think they have a need for something like that?”
Orlando counted to ten before stopping and looking at Viggo. No need to bite his head off; what he was thinking was perfectly logical. “Well, they were building a new library at the school and were holding a fundraiser. They auctioned almost everything and kept the money.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Viggo sheepishly.
Orlando smiled, a shy smile that went right to Viggo’s heart. “Don’t be. Perfectly understandable.” He motioned to a small door. “Do you mind if I show you something?”
“Of course not. Lead on.” Viggo stepped back, allowing Orlando to walk ahead of him. His eyes ran the length of Orlando’s back, lingering on the tight backside under the baggy pajama pants.
“I actually, well…I hope it’s okay to say this. I picked everything in here absolutely by myself…and thought of you while I did it.” Orlando opened the door and moved aside so Viggo could walk in alone.
Viggo gave him a curious smile as he entered the tiny library. Bookshelves encircled the room, all going to about chest-high on Orlando. The rest of the walls were covered in paintings. A large desk sat by the window, made of the same light pine that decorated the rest of the room. Every painting was a landscape, except for one abstract by the door. “Oh, Orlando. These are gorgeous.” Viggo walked around, inspecting the paintings one by one.
“He’s local, believe it or not. A kid, really, only twenty. He has such promise…and not one day of education. All pure talent,” Orlando said proudly.
“Unbelievable.” Viggo finished his circle of the room and smiled at Orlando, who stood in the doorway. His smile faded as he noticed the abstract by the door. “Well, that’s not by a local artist.”
“No.” Orlando blushed slightly, brushing imaginary dust from the frame. “That’s…from my private collection.”
“I never thought you’d keep it.” Viggo bent down to squint at his own signature in the bottom of the painting. “I gave it to you so long ago…”
“Are you serious?” Orlando gasped. Viggo stared at him and he cleared his throat. “I mean, hell, Vig, ya never know how much those things might be worth someday,” he tried to tease.
“Yes,” Viggo said, trying to smile back. “You, ah, mentioned something about breakfast?”
“Of course. Please follow me,” Orlando said politely, leading the way out to the balcony. They saw Sean and Elijah chatting at the small table. Orlando stopped walking. “We, uh…”
“I’m not so hungry, actually,” Viggo said. He didn’t want a confrontation with Sean in front of Elijah.
“You know what? I’m sure anything on that table we can find in the kitchen. Emily won’t be offended if we eat there. I end up there in the middle of the night most of the time anyway.” Orlando gave a small shrug. “I have a hard time making it through the night.”
He led the way down the stairs to the kitchen, his sandals slapping on the steps. “This place is a mansion,” Viggo commented.
Orlando gave a real smile. “I used to call it my “country house.” I originally liked the idea of having a big place that made me look gentry and titled.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it could be home.” Orlando ran a hand over the worn wooden railing. “It has history. A king or two has slept here. A duchess was murdered here. Babies were born here, titled men died here. It just has something. I’m glad I realized it, though, before I buried it all under that designer bullshit.” He opened the creaking door and led Viggo into the kitchen. “State of the art appliances and such…but that’s the original fireplace.” Orlando pointed to the large brick hole in the wall. “Emily actually bakes bread in there…and I think we still have…” He dug through cupboards until he found a wrapped loaf. “Here. And milk…” Orlando opened the large refrigerator and pulled out milk and cheese. “Made by a local dairy,” he said almost proudly.
Viggo sat down, allowing Orlando to serve him. “You belong here about a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said before he thought.
Orlando smiled. “That is the best compliment I’ve had in a long time.” He gave Viggo a plate of bread and cheese before sitting down himself. “I can make you coffee if you…”
“No. I’ve had three cups already today. Thanks.” Viggo bit into the bread. “Delicious.”
Orlando smiled at Viggo, resisting the urge to reach over and brush the crumbs from Viggo’s chin. “I really did have no clue you were coming today,” he said instead. “Shocked the hell outta me.”
“Me, too. I may have to throttle him,” Viggo said.
“I’ll help. I might not do so much of the throttling, but I can hold him down,” Orlando offered.
“It might be a two man job,” Viggo agreed. He chewed thoughtfully, looking around the dark kitchen and back at Orlando. “You look happy here.”
“Yeah,” Orlando said, nodding slowly. “I can hide here. As far as I know, the people in the town don’t say much about me…I can keep a low profile. They don’t get the rumor rags, they don’t watch Entertainment Tonight.” He ducked his head, curls falling over his eyes. “I don’t have to hear about my career or lack thereof, my marriage or lack thereof, my talent or lack thereof.”
“I guess you do have a lot to hide from.” Viggo had never truly considered that. He was lucky in that he could still pretty much blend into a crowd.
“I know it’s childish, really, not to face my life, but sometimes you need a safe haven,” Orlando said, studying the table.
“Hey.” Viggo put a finger under Orlando’s chin, tilting it up before he could stop himself. “You’re not a child. It’s okay to need sanctuary sometimes.” Viggo blushed slightly. “I had no right telling you to grow up. You’re definitely a man now.”
“Even though I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat lately?” Orlando said. His eyes closed as he concentrated on the touch of Viggo’s finger.
“Yeah, you have,” Viggo agreed. His hand shook slightly as his palm came up to cup the soft cheek. “But you’re most definitely a man.”
Orlando swallowed deeply, letting his cheek rest in Viggo’s palm before his eyes fluttered open. “I’ve always thought that being a man meant owning up to your mistakes. And fuck but I’ve made a lot, especially when it comes to you. I’m so sorry, Viggo.” Orlando turned his head, planting a soft kiss in Viggo’s palm. “You were right. All along. I was afraid to be myself. I put my career before my heart, and before yours, too. I fell in love with you the second your lips met mine, and I hid it. I lived a lie. I’ve been living it ever since, and I’m sorry.” Orlando blinked back tears, tears of relief as well as loss. “I wanted you to know. No matter what we become from now on, friends or not, I wanted you to know that you were right and that I was a twat, in Beanie’s words.” Orlando chuckled slightly at the word. “And I still love you. Never EVER stopped.”
“We’ll still be friends,” Viggo murmured, his eyes drinking in the face he loved. “But I hope it’s something more.” His hand slid around to the back of Orlando’s neck, pulling him forward for a tender kiss.
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