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Jun. 18th, 2006 07:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
vatulele.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliTitle: Damn
Author: Vatulele
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Inspired by the song, "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.
Warnings: None
Beta: No one yet, anyone one to be my beta?
Disclaimer: FICTION, FICTION, FICTION, FICTION. None of this ever happened, and it most likely never will, if it does, I’m a psychic and you all should fear me. I don’t mean any harm by writing this, so please don’t sue me Mr. Bloom’s and Mr. Mortensen’s lawyers because for all the money it would cost to take me to court, I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate because I’m just a poor, lowly girl with mediocre writing skills.
Feedback: A must have like sparklers on the 4th of July.
Told in Orlando's POV.
I tapped quietly on his front window. I didn't want to knock on the solid oak door. It would cause too much noise this late at night. Tapping wouldn't be enough. So I tapped on the front window leaving little smudges in the raindrops that had collected from the storm currently blowing at my back. I started to wonder wether this was a good idea. Maybe I should just go, come back in a month...maybe a year. I started to turn around and head back into the storm when I heard the lock click. Damn. I heard the door creak as it opened. "Viggo I love you. I always have. I'll stand out here all night in this bloody storm to prove it to you if I have to." I finally turned around expecting to see the sea green of my one true loves eyes. Nilch. I looked up into the tawny brown of his practically grown up son. Damn.
"Dad's in his studio, per usual. Except he's weirder tonight, he's hunched over a tape recorder with a beer and a tambourine. Every now and again theres shouts and a particuarly loud bang on the tambourine. So I know if those stop I should probably make sure he hasn't knocked himself out with it." Henry walked back into the house leaving the door open. Whatever happened to 'come in?'. I shook off the droplets that had collected in my hair before stepping in. I was going to confess the deep, dark depths of my heart to the man I love looking like a drowned rat. Damn. He led me to his fathers studio towards the back of the house. I heard a shout and the tambourine being shook violently. I bet he's piss drunk. Henry pushed me towards the door swiping his thumb across his throat for emphasis if I didn't do what I came here to do. Damn.
I twisted the antique door knob and was granted entrance. At least he hadn't started locking himself in solitary confinement. Isn't that how Van Gogh lost an ear? Lost in my thoughts I didn't notice the tambourine flying towards me until it was to late. He was pissed. Drunk or angry I couldn't tell. "How many times Hen? How many times do I tell you not to come in while I'm in here with the door closed? How many times?" His voice held a very exasperated tone to it. I looked down at the instrument on the floor and picked it up. Looking back at the man I loved I saw he was in his usual attire, flannel shirt, jeans, bare feet and sitting cross legged on the shiny, paint splattered wood floors. Handing him the tambourine I sat down beside him and looked straight ahead. He looked at me confused. "You're not Henry..."
"I know I'm not." I grabbed the beer that was sitting between us and took a swig.
"How'd you get here?" He grabbed the beer from me and cradled it protectively, setting it down on the other side of himself, a fair distance away from me.
"Took a plane." His eyebrow quirked up.
"To my front lawn?" I sighed, he was drunk or just being a filthy human and playing tricks.
"Then I rented a car." He made a muffled 'hmphf' and grabbed his tape recorder.
"Why are you here?" I noticed he'd turned the recorder on.
"Well I explaned it all to Henry at the door thinking it was you, want me to bring him in?" He set the recorder down again.
"Stop playing games." So he was playing tricks with me. Stupid actors.
"Okay well, it went something like this, but I'll make a few revisions. Viggo I love you. I always have. I'll stand out in that bloody storm raging outside this house if I have to. Just to prove that I love you and even if you kick me out of the house right now because I was an insecure pratt then so be it." Wow. I think that was better than the version I said to Henry. Silence. Damn.
"You want to stay? I'd like that better than you going back out into the rain and looking more like a rat than you do now." I smiled in spite of the insult. Stupid human.
"Where's the beer? Standing outside your door for a good half an hour calls for some beer." He grabbed his half drunk beer and gave it to me. Along with a kiss. Damn. I missed this, maybe being irrational had its advantages.
Author: Vatulele
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Inspired by the song, "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.
Warnings: None
Beta: No one yet, anyone one to be my beta?
Disclaimer: FICTION, FICTION, FICTION, FICTION. None of this ever happened, and it most likely never will, if it does, I’m a psychic and you all should fear me. I don’t mean any harm by writing this, so please don’t sue me Mr. Bloom’s and Mr. Mortensen’s lawyers because for all the money it would cost to take me to court, I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate because I’m just a poor, lowly girl with mediocre writing skills.
Feedback: A must have like sparklers on the 4th of July.
Told in Orlando's POV.
I tapped quietly on his front window. I didn't want to knock on the solid oak door. It would cause too much noise this late at night. Tapping wouldn't be enough. So I tapped on the front window leaving little smudges in the raindrops that had collected from the storm currently blowing at my back. I started to wonder wether this was a good idea. Maybe I should just go, come back in a month...maybe a year. I started to turn around and head back into the storm when I heard the lock click. Damn. I heard the door creak as it opened. "Viggo I love you. I always have. I'll stand out here all night in this bloody storm to prove it to you if I have to." I finally turned around expecting to see the sea green of my one true loves eyes. Nilch. I looked up into the tawny brown of his practically grown up son. Damn.
"Dad's in his studio, per usual. Except he's weirder tonight, he's hunched over a tape recorder with a beer and a tambourine. Every now and again theres shouts and a particuarly loud bang on the tambourine. So I know if those stop I should probably make sure he hasn't knocked himself out with it." Henry walked back into the house leaving the door open. Whatever happened to 'come in?'. I shook off the droplets that had collected in my hair before stepping in. I was going to confess the deep, dark depths of my heart to the man I love looking like a drowned rat. Damn. He led me to his fathers studio towards the back of the house. I heard a shout and the tambourine being shook violently. I bet he's piss drunk. Henry pushed me towards the door swiping his thumb across his throat for emphasis if I didn't do what I came here to do. Damn.
I twisted the antique door knob and was granted entrance. At least he hadn't started locking himself in solitary confinement. Isn't that how Van Gogh lost an ear? Lost in my thoughts I didn't notice the tambourine flying towards me until it was to late. He was pissed. Drunk or angry I couldn't tell. "How many times Hen? How many times do I tell you not to come in while I'm in here with the door closed? How many times?" His voice held a very exasperated tone to it. I looked down at the instrument on the floor and picked it up. Looking back at the man I loved I saw he was in his usual attire, flannel shirt, jeans, bare feet and sitting cross legged on the shiny, paint splattered wood floors. Handing him the tambourine I sat down beside him and looked straight ahead. He looked at me confused. "You're not Henry..."
"I know I'm not." I grabbed the beer that was sitting between us and took a swig.
"How'd you get here?" He grabbed the beer from me and cradled it protectively, setting it down on the other side of himself, a fair distance away from me.
"Took a plane." His eyebrow quirked up.
"To my front lawn?" I sighed, he was drunk or just being a filthy human and playing tricks.
"Then I rented a car." He made a muffled 'hmphf' and grabbed his tape recorder.
"Why are you here?" I noticed he'd turned the recorder on.
"Well I explaned it all to Henry at the door thinking it was you, want me to bring him in?" He set the recorder down again.
"Stop playing games." So he was playing tricks with me. Stupid actors.
"Okay well, it went something like this, but I'll make a few revisions. Viggo I love you. I always have. I'll stand out in that bloody storm raging outside this house if I have to. Just to prove that I love you and even if you kick me out of the house right now because I was an insecure pratt then so be it." Wow. I think that was better than the version I said to Henry. Silence. Damn.
"You want to stay? I'd like that better than you going back out into the rain and looking more like a rat than you do now." I smiled in spite of the insult. Stupid human.
"Where's the beer? Standing outside your door for a good half an hour calls for some beer." He grabbed his half drunk beer and gave it to me. Along with a kiss. Damn. I missed this, maybe being irrational had its advantages.
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Date: 2006-06-18 09:09 am (UTC)and trust me "if it does,I’m a psychic and you all should fear me", we should not fear you but see you as our god lol.
another sweet story.*kiss*
p.s. since this is a story inspired by "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5 (btw, I love this song), how about "Never Again, Again", by Lee Ann Womack? Hope it can give you some inspiration, too. Of course, if you need some.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-18 09:18 am (UTC)yes I am frequently the 'rational' voice among my friends, although I've been known to let my hair down a few times *blush*
hmmm I've never heard that song by Lee Ann, is the she the woman that wrote 'I Hope You Dance" ? I listen to country but not all that often. It will come and go in phases.
Thanks for all the lovely words nariel *kissies slips a chocolate chunk cookie in your pocket* *g*
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Date: 2006-06-18 09:56 am (UTC)yes, she is the one wrote 'I Hope You Dance".
http://www.sendspace.com/file/n9rozp
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Date: 2006-06-18 10:10 am (UTC)Yeah I love 'I Hope You Dance' It's such a lovely song. Thanks for the link!
Also thanks for telling me about 'Never Again, Again' inspiration did strike and I should have this lovely little ficlett finnished very soon. Hopefully it will cheer you up in spite of all the dieting.
*big kisses*
no subject
Date: 2006-06-19 08:59 pm (UTC)