vigorli

author: zebraljb
rating: up to nc17
disclaimer: au, but I know nothing of Viggo or Orlando
note: written for the vo_xmas challenge, which asked for Top!Orlando in an AU Christmas setting.
warning: some angst, not much

Orlando whistled as he went back out to the dining room to clear his remaining tables. He picked up Peter’s empty mug with one hand and the tip with the other. Only when the mug was safely in the dishpan did Orlando look at the money in his hand. He stared as he saw President Ulysses S. Grant looking up at him. “It has to be a mistake!” He gasped out loud. Fifty dollars?

“What, Bloom?” Sean asked, appearing out of nowhere. “You don’t complain about tips in front of customers.”

“I’m not bloody complaining,” Orlando growled, shoving the bill into his pocket. No need for Sean to think he was kissing up for tips. “Forget I said anything.”

The rest of the night seemed to fly by. He wasn’t his usual happy self to his remaining customers, but tonight, it didn’t matter. He had a fifty-dollar bill in his pocket. He cheerfully offered to mop the floor, though it was technically Kate’s sidework. He had a fifty in his pocket!

Soon only he and Sean were left in the restaurant. Orlando took care to do a good job; no matter how late it was, or how eager he was to leave, if it wasn’t done right, he’d either be stuck doing it again or he’d get a good earful from Sean. He made sure to prop up wet floor signs, even though they were the only ones left, and finally punched out. “Good night, Sean!” He called over his shoulder.

“Hey, Bloom!”

Orlando ignored him, yanking on his coat as he let the door slam behind him. He dug for his keys as he walked, an extra bounce in his step. He was wondering if he should splurge on something or immediately put the extra money in the bank when he heard voices behind him. “Hey, it’s the pretty boy.”

Orlando slowly turned around to see two of the men from his earlier table. “Uh, can I help you guys?”

“We were just wondering how in the world you could say no to a pretty little thing like that chick inside.”

“What have you done to Kate?” Orlando gasped.

“We didn’t touch her,” the other man promised. “We’re waiting for you. We wanted to see if you were really a fairy.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Have a good night.” Orlando fumbled with his keys, praying he could find the right one and get out of there. He was by no means weak, but the two men were both taller than he, outweighing him by a good forty pounds each.

One of them leaned forward, one hand on Orlando’s car door, pinning Orlando between him and his friend. “I think we’ll make it our business. Tell me, pretty, do you suck dick?”

“Are you any good?” The other man chimed in.

The first man grabbed Orlando by the curls. “Why don’t we find out?” His grip was unyielding as he forced Orlando to his knees.

Viggo put the magazine down when he heard the back door of the restaurant slam shut. He smiled as he saw Orlando bounce across the parking lot. Obviously he had gotten the money. His smile froze as two figures appeared out of nowhere. “Shit,” Viggo said. He should have been paying attention, not reading the damn magazine. His eyes widened as one of the men got close to Orlando, pinning him to the car. Orlando’s knees had barely hit the ground before Viggo was out of the car like a shot.

“You fellas need any help?” He called in what he hoped was a casual manner, walking quickly across the parking lot. “Car won’t start?”

Orlando’s heart leapt when he heard a set of footsteps coming across the lot. The voice was familiar, but he didn’t care who it was. “No, we’re fine.” He felt himself dragged back up by the hair, then the man smoothed his coat. “My friend just fell.”

Orlando turned around and saw Peter standing there. “You okay?” Peter asked.

“Sure. I…”

“He said he fell, old man,” the other man said. “Why don’t you beat it?”

Peter raised his eyebrows at the comment, and smiled. “Why don’t you just get your friend in his car and we’ll all call it a night, okay?”

“Sure,” the first man said, giving Orlando a friendly clap on the back. Peter met Orlando’s gaze, and Orlando shrugged.

“Night.” Peter slowly turned and began to walk back to his car.

The man holding Orlando waited for Peter to make it halfway across the lot before he snarled, “You’re not getting out of this that quickly, pretty boy.” He backhanded Orlando across the face, sending Orlando to the ground. Orlando gasped for breath, trying to yell. Before he could make a sound, he was being dragged across the lot by his coat. The men were heading for the large green dumpsters, a perfect hiding place for whatever they wanted to do to him.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Suddenly Peter was there again, the palm of his hand catching the man under the chin. Orlando was dropped to the ground, and he slowly crawled away. He watched in awe as Peter made short work of both men with a series of punches and kicks. They soon lay motionless on the ground, and Peter had hardly broken a sweat. “Guess those hours of working out finally paid off,” Peter said to himself, shaking his hand. “You okay?” He held a hand out to Orlando.

Orlando stared up at him, face throbbing with pain even as it burned with embarrassment. “Fine,” he said, wincing at the pain. He took the hand and got up. “Thank you.”

“Don’t talk. You need ice on that,” Peter said. He seemed to think for a moment. “Look, Orlando, what I’m about to do…you need to understand that I never meant to hurt or mislead you, okay? Never. I’d never intentionally do that.”

Orlando took a step back, fear still running high in his veins. “What…what are you doing to do to me?”

“Nothing like that,” Peter said soothingly. “Let me take you to my place, get you cleaned up, okay? That’s all.”

“Okay,” Orlando said finally, following Peter to his car.