Breathing Room (8/?)
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vigorliTitle: Breathing Room (8/?)
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: The care and maintenance of a relationship
Rating/Warnings: R. All made up. There's not a lick of truth in it. The timing of various events is almost certain to be off somewhat.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. If I made any money from this, I could put my kid through college.
A/N: Feedback would really help a struggling newbie fanfic writer.
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2002
"Aren't you going to invite me home for drinks and a little... y'know..." Orlando waggled his eyebrows comically, leaning over to peck Viggo on the nose.
Viggo laughed and caught those enticing raspberry-flavored lips for a quick hard kiss. "Henry's at home," he muttered. "How about your room?"
Orlando flung the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically. "Another hotel room. I do declare, I believe you're ashamed of me." Laughing, he turned away, reached back and grabbed Viggo's hand and grinned over one shoulder. "Don't care where, hot stuff," he purred. "Long as you do me."
---
February
"You clean up good, old man."
"Why thank you." Swat. "Brat. Now come on, We'll be late."
"You're sure this is okay?"
"It's my exhibit. I don't see why I can't give you an advance look if I want to."
In the car.
"I'm really sorry I can't stay for the opening tonight, Vig."
"I know that, Lan. We've already covered this."
"I just feel bad."
"Don't. We both live in a weird world. By choice. I'm just glad you were free this afternoon."
"And you'll be able to come to my room tonight?"
"Count on it, elf boy."
Another late night, in another hotel room. Orlando rests somewhere between sleeping and waking, his head resting in that now-familiar curve of Viggo's shoulder. Viggo's hand plays absently with his curls, and he's humming. It's so soft, Orlando wonders if he's even aware of it.
"Vig," he whispers. "Are you happy?"
"Right now or in general?" comes the rusty whisper from the darkness.
"Right now."
"Yes." A long moment's pause, and the hand toying with his curls reaches down to caress his shoulder briefly. "Oh yes."
Orlando pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slow, feeling it ruffle the hairs on the chest in front of his mouth. "Your exhibit was amazing," he says. "You are amazing."
"I'm glad you like the work." Silence reigns for a long while, and Orlando wonders if his lover has gone to sleep. It has, after all, been a long day. Just when he decides he should give in to sleep himself, the low whisper insinuates itself into the darkness again.
"You're gonna be here most of March, right?"
"Um-hmmm."
"Stay at my house. With me."
"At your house?" Orlando has never been to Viggo's house. Except for the friendship times in New Zealand, all their times together have been in hotels. Orlando knows, from times they've talked, how jealously Viggo guards his privacy. To be invited to his house... "Are you sure?"
"If I weren't sure, I wouldn't have asked you." Orlando can hear the smile in the darkness.
"Vig, I'd love to. I'd love to be with you." He launches himself abruptly half-atop Viggo and dives into a sloppy, laughing kiss.
"Damn, elf boy," Viggo laughs around being assaulted. "It's not like I asked you to marry me."
"Yeah, yeah, but still, old man." Orlando plants kisses all over his face like an overeager puppy. "I get to come to your house!" He slides all the way on top and suddenly nobody's just lying restfully in bed any more. Orlando reaches down between them and begins to show some firm appreciation for the invitation.
Viggo groans. "Kid, you're gonna kill me."
"But you'll die happy."
"True."
Slithery as an eel, Orlando's beneath the covers and things abruptly get hot, wet and slippery. Viggo collapses bonelessly on the bed and wonders what good thing he did to deserve this, briefly, before his brain short-circuits. And then the heavenly ministrations stop. Just stop. And Orlando's head pops up, brown eyes peering in mock concern from beneath the sheets.
"You *do* have shampoo at your house, right? You're not one of those blokes who washes his hair with soap?"
Viggo growls. "We'll get shampoo if we don't have it. Keep your mind on what you're doing."
"Grouchy," Orlando grins, then dives back under the covers, and eventually everything is all rights. In spades.
March
Orlando expected the first thing he'd notice about the inside of Viggo's house would be the clutter, and he wasn't disappointed on that front. Inside Viggo's house was Clutter Central, the kind of loosely controlled chaos most often found in college dorms and, well, artist's homes.
The outside of the house was a surprise. Orlando had taken a taxi from the airport, not sure really what to expect. He knew he didn't expect Viggo to live in some big Beverly Hills-type mansion. He wouldn't have been surprised if the cabbie had pulled them up in front of a shack on the beach somewhere. What he never expected was an absolutely normal middle-class stucco tract house in a decent family-looking neighborhood. A cedar fence blocked off the back yard, and the front "porch" was one of those travesties only suburban California builders have the audacity to call a porch - a 4x4 square of concrete with a wooden awning and an outdoor light on one side.
Viggo met him at the door in paint-spattered jeans and a ripped-sleeve sweatshirt that looked like a product of dumpster diving, but the warm welcoming grin, hard hug and even harder kiss made Orlando not care if he was dressed in a garbage bag. Or nothing at all. Which would have been acceptable.
No, the first thing Orlando noticed about the inside of Viggo's house was the smell. During the time he'd been with Viggo, he'd grown to adore the older man's unique scent, but he'd never been able to figure out exactly what it was. Stepping into the house was like stepping into a bottle of it. There was sweat in it, and dog, and a metallic tang that Orlando now recognized as paint and darkroom chemicals. A light layer of soap, or something clean and floral, fit in as well. But under it all was... dammit... incense. It was incense he'd been smelling for years, but he'd never actually seen Viggo burning any so he never made the connection.
"What is that smell?" Orlando asked, sniffing, eyes narrowed.
Viggo looked slightly alarmed and sniffed himself, clearly worried that something might not have been cleaned up somewhere. "Uh... I don't smell anything..." he mumbled, wandering off to peek into some of the dog's favorite throw-up spots.
"No- no- " Orlando laughed, trotting after him and catching his arm. "It's a good smell. You always smell like it and I never knew what it was. But it's incense, right?"
"Oh!" Viggo damnear blushed, then grinned loopily. "Yeah, it's sandalwood. I just like it. Been using it for years. Covers up a lot of dog sh- um... nasty smells."
Orlando braced his hands on Viggo's shoulders and beamed at him. "You can't imagine how happy I am to be here, Vig." He leaned forward for a slow, tender kiss. "Now give me the tour and show me my bedroom."
"You got it," Viggo agreed, sliding an arm around the younger man's slim waist. "And my bedroom is yours. Any time you want it."
Orlando glanced over at the sudden serious tone and gave Viggo a tentative smile. "I like the sound of that."
"Good."
---
After getting Orlando's belongings settled into the master bedroom and grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, they planned to sprawl on deck chairs beside the pool. After, that is, Orlando met Brigit.
"She's gonna bite me," he said as the border collie mix growled at him from her place by Viggo's legs.
"Nah, she won't bite." Viggo grinned and reached down to ruffle the dog's ears. "She's just an old lady and she's not as happy about meeting new people as she used to be. Go easy with her, that's all."
With a "you'd better be right" look, Orlando slowly lowered himself to his haunches and held a hand out, palm up, toward the black and white dog. "Hey, girl," he said quietly. "You're an old lady, huh? So's my Maude at home. She's not too crazy about new people, either."
Brigit growled again, softly, and glanced up at Viggo, who murmured to her in Danish. Orlando held his hand still and eventually she stopped growling and extended her head to sniff delicately at the hand. Viggo stepped slowly from her side to Orlando and slid his hand into Orlando's hair, rubbing it around slightly, messing up the curls. Then he squatted beside Orlando and held the hand out for Brigit to smell. She sniffed Viggo's hand carefully, stepping toward them, then turned back to Orlando's hand and gave it a tiny lick.
"Try petting her now," Viggo said in a soft, low voice that Orlando was accustomed to only hearing in bed. "But move slow."
Orlando reached his hand over slowly and scratched gently behind Brigit's ears, while the dog licked Viggo's hand. Viggo put his beer bottle down and reached up to catch Orlando's chin, turning him in to a slow, increasingly heated kiss. When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Viggo gave Orlando that mischievous smile. "Now she'll treat you right. She knows you're mine. And I'm the big dog around here."
"The big dog, are you?" Orlando nudged him hard enough to tip him over. Viggo went over with a yelp as he realized he was closer to the pool than he thought and tumbled in with a junior high splash. Orlando sat flat down on the poolside, laughing like crazy, while Brigit took cover under a deck chair, clearly having been exposed to pool antics before.
After a moment, Orlando calmed down a little, then cast a wary look at the pool, where there was no sign of Viggo. He was no fool. In New Zealand, they'd all learned that Viggo was one hell of a swimmer and exceptionally good at the underwater sneak attack. Still, that shove had been unprovoked. Maybe he'd hit the side of the pool too hard. Maybe he was hurt...
Orlando couldn't stop himself. He leaned forward to check and was immediately grabbed by the shirt and yanked into the pool, beer bottle flying.
Sputtering, gagging, splashing, coughing moments later, the two men glared - sort of - at each other across two feet of chlorinated California water.
"Like my pool?" Viggo asked mildly, blue eyes glinting with that "oh god, somebody's gonna be in trouble" light.
"You are a fucking health hazard," Orlando replied huffily, trying to hide a grin. "And those are damned expensive leather shoes lying on the bottom of your pool."
"Huh." Viggo suddenly dropped out of sight and abruptly Orlando felt a tug at his waist, then a yank. A kick-swirl of water and Viggo erupted up again just out of reach. "Now the belt'll still match."
Orlando spluttered, feeling one-handed at his waist where, yes, his belt was now gone. "You tosser."
"Lame, lame comeback. You need to work on that." Viggo bobbed a little in the water and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, tossing it generally toward the deck chairs.
Not to be outdone, Orlando unbuttoned his shirt, wetness slowing things down, and eventually wiggled out of it and tossed it toward the sweatshirt. "Now what, big dog?" he growled.
Still treading water, just more awkwardly, Viggo managed to wriggle his way out of his jeans, letting them drift to the bottom of the pool. "This is what, elf boy."
Unstoppable as a battleship, he shoved forward, grabbing Orlando and pushing him backwards against the side of the pool. Viggo's mouth claimed his in a take-no-prisoners kiss and after a moment hands worked at Orlando's pants, pulling them open and shoving them down around his hips. Breaking free of the kiss, Viggo studied his face for a long moment, then grabbed both of Orlando's hands and stretched them out along the poolside. "Hold on," he murmured, and quirked a hint of a smile, then drew in a breath and dropped like a stone under water.
Orlando barely had time to grab the tile border of the pool when he felt himself engulfed in abrupt heat and suction. The shock of the sudden change from cool pool water to searing body heat jolted him rockhard and halfway to orgasm in an embarrassingly short time. Talented tongue swirls and hands making themselves at home in places... where... sweet ...
It all stopped, and Viggo shot to the surface, flinging back his hair, sucking in air, with a wicked grin. "Like my house?"
"What?" Orlando blinked, lost in sensation.
The faintest hint of a soft laugh lingered on the air as Viggo vanished again and the underwater torture resumed. Orlando tried his damnedest to pry the tiles off the sides of the pool and lost all sense of time and place, arching back and panting up into the cloudless sky. He was so close, so close...
Viggo surfaced again, but this time one hand stayed busy under the water while he sucked in air and leaned in to bite Orlando's neck, sucking it hard before licking away the sting. "You always have a place here, Lan," he whispered against the wet skin, "You always have a place with me." Then he dove back under the water to bring the operation to completion.
Orlando groaned and cried out as he was taken to ecstasy and beyond, and when he slumped boneless afterwards, it was into Viggo's arms. Viggo leaned against the side of the pool for a few moments to catch his breath, then gently tugged Orlando to the steps and lifted the younger man into his arms as he climbed out of the pool. With a private smile, remembering the struggle he had carrying Ryo down the stairs and across the set in "Yakuza," he carried Orlando easily through the open sliding door.
Orlando roused as Viggo padded through the living room, both of them dripping, and into the bedroom.
"You don't have to carry me, y'know," Orlando said quietly.
"Maybe I like to."
Viggo paused at the door of the master bath and let Orlando slide to his feet.
"That was brilliant," Orlando said, wrapping his arms around Viggo's neck.
"I'm a brilliant guy." Viggo twitched a little smile. "And you make me even better."
"Will you rescue my shoes?"
"If I can fuck you in the shower."
"How crude."
"Is that a no?"
"What do you think?"
Viggo stepped into the bathroom and slid the shower door open. Holding Orlando's gaze, he pointed to a rack clearly newly mounted on the back wall of the shower. Atop the rack rested at least a dozen different varieties of shampoo, some conditioners, and a tube of waterproof lubricant.
Orlando gaped, tried to say something, then started laughing. Viggo grinned maniacally.
"You love me," Orlando gasped, doing his very best Sally Field. "You really love me."
"Did you doubt it?"
"Let's take a shower."
----
"Vig, don't take this wrong, okay?"
"Okay," Viggo said agreeably, flipping a page in the book he was reading in bed.
"How can your house be this... um... well ..."
"Messy?"
"Cluttered."
"Okay. Cluttered, and?"
"And still be clean." Orlando rolled up on one elbow to give Viggo a seriously baffled look. "It's really clean. No dust, no dog hair dust bunnies, nothing. But there's.... um...."
"Valuable stuff," Viggo murmured helpfully, grinning a little, dropping the open book onto his bare chest.
"Right. Valuable stuff," Orlando said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "And lots of it. All over the place."
"Elena."
"What?"
"Who."
"Who what?"
"Elena."
"You're making me crazy, old man."
"I could quibble with that," Viggo said thoughtfully.
Orlando punched him in the kidney. Not *too* hard.
"Ow," Viggo grunted, and slapped Orlando lightly upside the head. "Goddamn," he laughed. "That hurt."
"It was supposed to. Now who's Elena?"
"My housekeeper."
"You have a housekeeper?"
"Didn't I just say?"
"You never told me."
"You never asked."
"I've been here three days and I haven't seen a housekeeper."
"You'll see her tomorrow."
"Were you planning on warning me?" Orlando had decided he rather liked the ability to wander around inside the house naked while Henry was spending a week with his mother.
"Probably," Viggo said, mirth oozing as he picked his book back up.
"Y'know, I hate you," Orlando said, flopping down on his side and sniffing loudly. He turned out the light on his side of the bed.
"I hate you, too," Viggo purred, sticking a Hershey bar wrapper in the book to mark his place and putting it on the side table. The room went dark. "I hate you so much." He slid up behind Orlando and wrapped himself around the younger man, sliding an arm around his waist, thumb idly starting to toy with a nipple.
"I hate you so much I never want you to touch me again," Orlando said softly, a light shudder running through his body.
"I hate you so much I lie awake at night thinking about how much I don't want to be near you," Viggo whispered, pressing soft kisses along the smooth flattened arch of shoulder.
"I hate you so much I can't imagine being with you forever." Orlando's voice was trembling slightly and he began to turn into Viggo's arms.
"I hate you so much I can't imagine ever letting you go."
The words shivered on the air, crystalline, fearsome, sharper than a handful of razors. Beneath their banners of potential pain, Orlando pressed his lips to Viggo's, and the kiss that grew was a slow, quiet, steady statement of a promise no one could speak. And when their bodies met, for the first time, it wasn't about lust. It was about pleasure and caring. It was about becoming one; more than one body, becoming one soul. It was the birth of something that could take on the potential pain.
When Viggo whispered, "I think I might love you," much much later, when they were both sated and half asleep, he whispered it in Spanish. When Orlando breathed, "I love you, old man," he was pretty sure Viggo was asleep.
When they woke up in each other's arms the next morning, it was the best feeling in the world.
---
Elena turned out to be short, gray-haired and softly rounded. She worried about Senor Viggo and was glad that he had a "new young friend" to keep him company. She spent a large part of the day making a gigantic batch of homemade "green" - green chili sauce, which she then assembled into enchiladas, chiles rellenos and various other dishes to keep "los chicos" fed for the next week..
"Does she cook like this every week?" Orlando whispered, in awe.
"Yep." Viggo sniffed the air and seemed to be considering something deeply. "Sometimes we take it all to a homeless shelter the next day."
Orlando blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Why? Is it bad?"
"Oh, no. It's great. It's just always pretty much the same. Sometimes green, sometimes red, but ..." A shrug. "Gets old, even to me."
Orlando was stunned into silence. Viggo was well-known in New Zealand for his affable willingness to eat just about anything you put down in front of him. Including, notoriously, fresh roadkill. Orlando had no idea the man could actually get tired of something. "Hope you don't get tired of me, old man," he said with a little smile. "I'm pretty much always the same."
"You're never the same, Lan." Viggo wrapped his arms around the younger man and kissed his curly hair. "And even if you were, I wouldn't get tired of you."
"So you say."
"So I say." A portentous pause. "And so it shall be. For I am the king."
Orlando snorted, blew a raspberry noisily against Viggo's neck and sauntered off to the kitchen to try and talk Elena out of some samples.
----
Henry arrived Sunday afternoon, and Orlando was nervous as a cat. He changed clothes twice during the morning, sending Viggo into gales of laughter.
"Lan, he's not going to notice what you're wearing. He's a 14-year-old boy. He can barely see anything beyond his own nose."
"I just don't want him to think I'm a dork."
"Will you relax? He likes you. I already told you. He's okay with you being here. He's okay with us, as long as he doesn't have to watch us making out. It's me he has a problem with, not you."
"But why, Vig? Why's he upset with you?"
"It's complicated, babe." Viggo fell down on the couch on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. "I think he sees it as me betraying his mother, maybe."
"But you're divorced. And you said she's had boyfriends."
"Yeah, she has. And Henry hasn't liked it. He's found a reason to hate every single one of them. But I ... I guess he feels like I kinda stayed true. I mean, I've dated a few people here and there, but nobody seriously."
And I never brought anybody home, Viggo thought, because he was pretty sure that was a big part of Henry's anger at him. Exene tended to bring even the most temporary of boyfriends home, and Henry had told his dad how much he hated never knowing when there might be some new stranger at the breakfast table or coming out of the bathroom half-dressed. Which was why Viggo never brought any of his dates home. If they were going to be out all night, they'd go to her place or a hotel. But now he'd invited Orlando into their home, and Henry was pissed. Not at Orlando, whom he kinda thought was cool, but at his father, who had finally broken the faith. He wasn't about to tell Orlando that, though.
"He'll get over it. Don't worry."
"You're sure?"
"If I'm lying, I'm dying," Viggo said with a little grin. "I got you a present."
"You did?" Orlando lit up like Christmas morning, and Viggo had to chuckle a little. Sometimes the younger man's exuberance made him seem all of 12 years old. And sometimes he was as easy to distract as a kid. Just dangle a gift or something shiny in front of him, and he was a goner.
"Go check the kitchen counter."
Orlando bounced up and dashed into the kitchen, his nervousness about Henry forgotten. Viggo absently counted under his breath, and had only made it up to six when there was a blur of motion and he was suddenly covered by a warm coat of delighted elf boy. "A kettle! You got me a proper kettle!" Orlando rained kisses all over Viggo's grinning face. "Oh, I can make you a real cuppa tea now. You'll see how it should be. Wean you away from that awful stuff in the little bong pots."
Viggo laughed. "They're not bong pots, y'goofball. They're mates."
"Whatever. They're nasty."
"Philistine."
Orlando had just leaned down to stop the discussion with a kiss when the front door opened. In the ensuing scramble, Orlando ended up on the floor and Viggo ended up reclining in one corner of the couch with some seriously tousled hair. Henry stopped two steps into the living room and just looked at them for a long moment, before shrugging his backpack more securely onto one shoulder, a habitual motion.
"Hey, Orli," the teen-ager said finally, and gave Orlando a small but welcoming smile.
"Henry!" Orlando scrambled up from the floor and darted over to give the awkward boy a rambunctious hug. "Long time. Duct-taped any houses lately?"
Henry flicked a glance at his father, then grinned at Orlando. "Nah. But I find ways to keep busy. Man, you look cool." The ultimate teen accolade as he took in Orlando's camo pants, khaki tank and loose black shirt. "You still any good at Playstation?"
"Only get a chance to play when I see Lij." Orlando reached over to ruffle the boy's jet-black hair. "I like this. Going goth?"
Viggo sat silent and watched as the two of them touched on shared bases, re-establishing connections they'd formed during Henry's visits to New Zealand. They made him feel fucking old, and he hated that, but he couldn't bring himself to try to act like a teen-ager just to be part of it. That time was past for him, and just as well. Absently he touched the scar on his upper lip, then transferred the gesture to a rubbing of his neck.
"Hey, Vig... I'm gonna help Henry take his stuff to his room and look at some things, okay?" Orlando said. The look in those chocolate eyes, when Vig looked up, was so relieved and joyful that he couldn't begin to resent anything.
"Sure thing. I may be in the studio."
"But we'll go shopping later," Orlando said. "For proper tea."
"You bet." Viggo watched as Orlando picked up Henry's small suitcase and the two of them started down the hallway to the bedrooms. Three steps into the hallway, Henry finally turned around and looked at him.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, son. Glad you're home."
Henry considered him for a long moment, from that face so much like Exene's, then nodded and vanished into his room.
Viggo sat back down on the couch and stared out the window for a while, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. Then he decided whatever it was, he wanted to do it. He wanted this liveliness, this exuberance in his life, and by god he could figure out a way to overcome any problems.
Even if it meant he had to drink tea.
--------
Viggo is a tenacious man. When he decides something is worth doing, or having, or fighting for, he can become implacable. He is a master of passive aggression, of passive resistance. He is a Ghandi of getting his way. He is a patient man, and can wait out almost anything... temperamental wives, high-strung children, asswipe directors, ego-ridden co-stars.
He simply knows what he wants, gets it clear in his mind, puts elements in place to make it happen, and then waits.
He likes to think this works.
Sometimes he knows he's a total fucking idiot.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: The care and maintenance of a relationship
Rating/Warnings: R. All made up. There's not a lick of truth in it. The timing of various events is almost certain to be off somewhat.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. If I made any money from this, I could put my kid through college.
A/N: Feedback would really help a struggling newbie fanfic writer.
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2002
"Aren't you going to invite me home for drinks and a little... y'know..." Orlando waggled his eyebrows comically, leaning over to peck Viggo on the nose.
Viggo laughed and caught those enticing raspberry-flavored lips for a quick hard kiss. "Henry's at home," he muttered. "How about your room?"
Orlando flung the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically. "Another hotel room. I do declare, I believe you're ashamed of me." Laughing, he turned away, reached back and grabbed Viggo's hand and grinned over one shoulder. "Don't care where, hot stuff," he purred. "Long as you do me."
---
February
"You clean up good, old man."
"Why thank you." Swat. "Brat. Now come on, We'll be late."
"You're sure this is okay?"
"It's my exhibit. I don't see why I can't give you an advance look if I want to."
In the car.
"I'm really sorry I can't stay for the opening tonight, Vig."
"I know that, Lan. We've already covered this."
"I just feel bad."
"Don't. We both live in a weird world. By choice. I'm just glad you were free this afternoon."
"And you'll be able to come to my room tonight?"
"Count on it, elf boy."
Another late night, in another hotel room. Orlando rests somewhere between sleeping and waking, his head resting in that now-familiar curve of Viggo's shoulder. Viggo's hand plays absently with his curls, and he's humming. It's so soft, Orlando wonders if he's even aware of it.
"Vig," he whispers. "Are you happy?"
"Right now or in general?" comes the rusty whisper from the darkness.
"Right now."
"Yes." A long moment's pause, and the hand toying with his curls reaches down to caress his shoulder briefly. "Oh yes."
Orlando pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slow, feeling it ruffle the hairs on the chest in front of his mouth. "Your exhibit was amazing," he says. "You are amazing."
"I'm glad you like the work." Silence reigns for a long while, and Orlando wonders if his lover has gone to sleep. It has, after all, been a long day. Just when he decides he should give in to sleep himself, the low whisper insinuates itself into the darkness again.
"You're gonna be here most of March, right?"
"Um-hmmm."
"Stay at my house. With me."
"At your house?" Orlando has never been to Viggo's house. Except for the friendship times in New Zealand, all their times together have been in hotels. Orlando knows, from times they've talked, how jealously Viggo guards his privacy. To be invited to his house... "Are you sure?"
"If I weren't sure, I wouldn't have asked you." Orlando can hear the smile in the darkness.
"Vig, I'd love to. I'd love to be with you." He launches himself abruptly half-atop Viggo and dives into a sloppy, laughing kiss.
"Damn, elf boy," Viggo laughs around being assaulted. "It's not like I asked you to marry me."
"Yeah, yeah, but still, old man." Orlando plants kisses all over his face like an overeager puppy. "I get to come to your house!" He slides all the way on top and suddenly nobody's just lying restfully in bed any more. Orlando reaches down between them and begins to show some firm appreciation for the invitation.
Viggo groans. "Kid, you're gonna kill me."
"But you'll die happy."
"True."
Slithery as an eel, Orlando's beneath the covers and things abruptly get hot, wet and slippery. Viggo collapses bonelessly on the bed and wonders what good thing he did to deserve this, briefly, before his brain short-circuits. And then the heavenly ministrations stop. Just stop. And Orlando's head pops up, brown eyes peering in mock concern from beneath the sheets.
"You *do* have shampoo at your house, right? You're not one of those blokes who washes his hair with soap?"
Viggo growls. "We'll get shampoo if we don't have it. Keep your mind on what you're doing."
"Grouchy," Orlando grins, then dives back under the covers, and eventually everything is all rights. In spades.
March
Orlando expected the first thing he'd notice about the inside of Viggo's house would be the clutter, and he wasn't disappointed on that front. Inside Viggo's house was Clutter Central, the kind of loosely controlled chaos most often found in college dorms and, well, artist's homes.
The outside of the house was a surprise. Orlando had taken a taxi from the airport, not sure really what to expect. He knew he didn't expect Viggo to live in some big Beverly Hills-type mansion. He wouldn't have been surprised if the cabbie had pulled them up in front of a shack on the beach somewhere. What he never expected was an absolutely normal middle-class stucco tract house in a decent family-looking neighborhood. A cedar fence blocked off the back yard, and the front "porch" was one of those travesties only suburban California builders have the audacity to call a porch - a 4x4 square of concrete with a wooden awning and an outdoor light on one side.
Viggo met him at the door in paint-spattered jeans and a ripped-sleeve sweatshirt that looked like a product of dumpster diving, but the warm welcoming grin, hard hug and even harder kiss made Orlando not care if he was dressed in a garbage bag. Or nothing at all. Which would have been acceptable.
No, the first thing Orlando noticed about the inside of Viggo's house was the smell. During the time he'd been with Viggo, he'd grown to adore the older man's unique scent, but he'd never been able to figure out exactly what it was. Stepping into the house was like stepping into a bottle of it. There was sweat in it, and dog, and a metallic tang that Orlando now recognized as paint and darkroom chemicals. A light layer of soap, or something clean and floral, fit in as well. But under it all was... dammit... incense. It was incense he'd been smelling for years, but he'd never actually seen Viggo burning any so he never made the connection.
"What is that smell?" Orlando asked, sniffing, eyes narrowed.
Viggo looked slightly alarmed and sniffed himself, clearly worried that something might not have been cleaned up somewhere. "Uh... I don't smell anything..." he mumbled, wandering off to peek into some of the dog's favorite throw-up spots.
"No- no- " Orlando laughed, trotting after him and catching his arm. "It's a good smell. You always smell like it and I never knew what it was. But it's incense, right?"
"Oh!" Viggo damnear blushed, then grinned loopily. "Yeah, it's sandalwood. I just like it. Been using it for years. Covers up a lot of dog sh- um... nasty smells."
Orlando braced his hands on Viggo's shoulders and beamed at him. "You can't imagine how happy I am to be here, Vig." He leaned forward for a slow, tender kiss. "Now give me the tour and show me my bedroom."
"You got it," Viggo agreed, sliding an arm around the younger man's slim waist. "And my bedroom is yours. Any time you want it."
Orlando glanced over at the sudden serious tone and gave Viggo a tentative smile. "I like the sound of that."
"Good."
---
After getting Orlando's belongings settled into the master bedroom and grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, they planned to sprawl on deck chairs beside the pool. After, that is, Orlando met Brigit.
"She's gonna bite me," he said as the border collie mix growled at him from her place by Viggo's legs.
"Nah, she won't bite." Viggo grinned and reached down to ruffle the dog's ears. "She's just an old lady and she's not as happy about meeting new people as she used to be. Go easy with her, that's all."
With a "you'd better be right" look, Orlando slowly lowered himself to his haunches and held a hand out, palm up, toward the black and white dog. "Hey, girl," he said quietly. "You're an old lady, huh? So's my Maude at home. She's not too crazy about new people, either."
Brigit growled again, softly, and glanced up at Viggo, who murmured to her in Danish. Orlando held his hand still and eventually she stopped growling and extended her head to sniff delicately at the hand. Viggo stepped slowly from her side to Orlando and slid his hand into Orlando's hair, rubbing it around slightly, messing up the curls. Then he squatted beside Orlando and held the hand out for Brigit to smell. She sniffed Viggo's hand carefully, stepping toward them, then turned back to Orlando's hand and gave it a tiny lick.
"Try petting her now," Viggo said in a soft, low voice that Orlando was accustomed to only hearing in bed. "But move slow."
Orlando reached his hand over slowly and scratched gently behind Brigit's ears, while the dog licked Viggo's hand. Viggo put his beer bottle down and reached up to catch Orlando's chin, turning him in to a slow, increasingly heated kiss. When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Viggo gave Orlando that mischievous smile. "Now she'll treat you right. She knows you're mine. And I'm the big dog around here."
"The big dog, are you?" Orlando nudged him hard enough to tip him over. Viggo went over with a yelp as he realized he was closer to the pool than he thought and tumbled in with a junior high splash. Orlando sat flat down on the poolside, laughing like crazy, while Brigit took cover under a deck chair, clearly having been exposed to pool antics before.
After a moment, Orlando calmed down a little, then cast a wary look at the pool, where there was no sign of Viggo. He was no fool. In New Zealand, they'd all learned that Viggo was one hell of a swimmer and exceptionally good at the underwater sneak attack. Still, that shove had been unprovoked. Maybe he'd hit the side of the pool too hard. Maybe he was hurt...
Orlando couldn't stop himself. He leaned forward to check and was immediately grabbed by the shirt and yanked into the pool, beer bottle flying.
Sputtering, gagging, splashing, coughing moments later, the two men glared - sort of - at each other across two feet of chlorinated California water.
"Like my pool?" Viggo asked mildly, blue eyes glinting with that "oh god, somebody's gonna be in trouble" light.
"You are a fucking health hazard," Orlando replied huffily, trying to hide a grin. "And those are damned expensive leather shoes lying on the bottom of your pool."
"Huh." Viggo suddenly dropped out of sight and abruptly Orlando felt a tug at his waist, then a yank. A kick-swirl of water and Viggo erupted up again just out of reach. "Now the belt'll still match."
Orlando spluttered, feeling one-handed at his waist where, yes, his belt was now gone. "You tosser."
"Lame, lame comeback. You need to work on that." Viggo bobbed a little in the water and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, tossing it generally toward the deck chairs.
Not to be outdone, Orlando unbuttoned his shirt, wetness slowing things down, and eventually wiggled out of it and tossed it toward the sweatshirt. "Now what, big dog?" he growled.
Still treading water, just more awkwardly, Viggo managed to wriggle his way out of his jeans, letting them drift to the bottom of the pool. "This is what, elf boy."
Unstoppable as a battleship, he shoved forward, grabbing Orlando and pushing him backwards against the side of the pool. Viggo's mouth claimed his in a take-no-prisoners kiss and after a moment hands worked at Orlando's pants, pulling them open and shoving them down around his hips. Breaking free of the kiss, Viggo studied his face for a long moment, then grabbed both of Orlando's hands and stretched them out along the poolside. "Hold on," he murmured, and quirked a hint of a smile, then drew in a breath and dropped like a stone under water.
Orlando barely had time to grab the tile border of the pool when he felt himself engulfed in abrupt heat and suction. The shock of the sudden change from cool pool water to searing body heat jolted him rockhard and halfway to orgasm in an embarrassingly short time. Talented tongue swirls and hands making themselves at home in places... where... sweet ...
It all stopped, and Viggo shot to the surface, flinging back his hair, sucking in air, with a wicked grin. "Like my house?"
"What?" Orlando blinked, lost in sensation.
The faintest hint of a soft laugh lingered on the air as Viggo vanished again and the underwater torture resumed. Orlando tried his damnedest to pry the tiles off the sides of the pool and lost all sense of time and place, arching back and panting up into the cloudless sky. He was so close, so close...
Viggo surfaced again, but this time one hand stayed busy under the water while he sucked in air and leaned in to bite Orlando's neck, sucking it hard before licking away the sting. "You always have a place here, Lan," he whispered against the wet skin, "You always have a place with me." Then he dove back under the water to bring the operation to completion.
Orlando groaned and cried out as he was taken to ecstasy and beyond, and when he slumped boneless afterwards, it was into Viggo's arms. Viggo leaned against the side of the pool for a few moments to catch his breath, then gently tugged Orlando to the steps and lifted the younger man into his arms as he climbed out of the pool. With a private smile, remembering the struggle he had carrying Ryo down the stairs and across the set in "Yakuza," he carried Orlando easily through the open sliding door.
Orlando roused as Viggo padded through the living room, both of them dripping, and into the bedroom.
"You don't have to carry me, y'know," Orlando said quietly.
"Maybe I like to."
Viggo paused at the door of the master bath and let Orlando slide to his feet.
"That was brilliant," Orlando said, wrapping his arms around Viggo's neck.
"I'm a brilliant guy." Viggo twitched a little smile. "And you make me even better."
"Will you rescue my shoes?"
"If I can fuck you in the shower."
"How crude."
"Is that a no?"
"What do you think?"
Viggo stepped into the bathroom and slid the shower door open. Holding Orlando's gaze, he pointed to a rack clearly newly mounted on the back wall of the shower. Atop the rack rested at least a dozen different varieties of shampoo, some conditioners, and a tube of waterproof lubricant.
Orlando gaped, tried to say something, then started laughing. Viggo grinned maniacally.
"You love me," Orlando gasped, doing his very best Sally Field. "You really love me."
"Did you doubt it?"
"Let's take a shower."
----
"Vig, don't take this wrong, okay?"
"Okay," Viggo said agreeably, flipping a page in the book he was reading in bed.
"How can your house be this... um... well ..."
"Messy?"
"Cluttered."
"Okay. Cluttered, and?"
"And still be clean." Orlando rolled up on one elbow to give Viggo a seriously baffled look. "It's really clean. No dust, no dog hair dust bunnies, nothing. But there's.... um...."
"Valuable stuff," Viggo murmured helpfully, grinning a little, dropping the open book onto his bare chest.
"Right. Valuable stuff," Orlando said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "And lots of it. All over the place."
"Elena."
"What?"
"Who."
"Who what?"
"Elena."
"You're making me crazy, old man."
"I could quibble with that," Viggo said thoughtfully.
Orlando punched him in the kidney. Not *too* hard.
"Ow," Viggo grunted, and slapped Orlando lightly upside the head. "Goddamn," he laughed. "That hurt."
"It was supposed to. Now who's Elena?"
"My housekeeper."
"You have a housekeeper?"
"Didn't I just say?"
"You never told me."
"You never asked."
"I've been here three days and I haven't seen a housekeeper."
"You'll see her tomorrow."
"Were you planning on warning me?" Orlando had decided he rather liked the ability to wander around inside the house naked while Henry was spending a week with his mother.
"Probably," Viggo said, mirth oozing as he picked his book back up.
"Y'know, I hate you," Orlando said, flopping down on his side and sniffing loudly. He turned out the light on his side of the bed.
"I hate you, too," Viggo purred, sticking a Hershey bar wrapper in the book to mark his place and putting it on the side table. The room went dark. "I hate you so much." He slid up behind Orlando and wrapped himself around the younger man, sliding an arm around his waist, thumb idly starting to toy with a nipple.
"I hate you so much I never want you to touch me again," Orlando said softly, a light shudder running through his body.
"I hate you so much I lie awake at night thinking about how much I don't want to be near you," Viggo whispered, pressing soft kisses along the smooth flattened arch of shoulder.
"I hate you so much I can't imagine being with you forever." Orlando's voice was trembling slightly and he began to turn into Viggo's arms.
"I hate you so much I can't imagine ever letting you go."
The words shivered on the air, crystalline, fearsome, sharper than a handful of razors. Beneath their banners of potential pain, Orlando pressed his lips to Viggo's, and the kiss that grew was a slow, quiet, steady statement of a promise no one could speak. And when their bodies met, for the first time, it wasn't about lust. It was about pleasure and caring. It was about becoming one; more than one body, becoming one soul. It was the birth of something that could take on the potential pain.
When Viggo whispered, "I think I might love you," much much later, when they were both sated and half asleep, he whispered it in Spanish. When Orlando breathed, "I love you, old man," he was pretty sure Viggo was asleep.
When they woke up in each other's arms the next morning, it was the best feeling in the world.
---
Elena turned out to be short, gray-haired and softly rounded. She worried about Senor Viggo and was glad that he had a "new young friend" to keep him company. She spent a large part of the day making a gigantic batch of homemade "green" - green chili sauce, which she then assembled into enchiladas, chiles rellenos and various other dishes to keep "los chicos" fed for the next week..
"Does she cook like this every week?" Orlando whispered, in awe.
"Yep." Viggo sniffed the air and seemed to be considering something deeply. "Sometimes we take it all to a homeless shelter the next day."
Orlando blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Why? Is it bad?"
"Oh, no. It's great. It's just always pretty much the same. Sometimes green, sometimes red, but ..." A shrug. "Gets old, even to me."
Orlando was stunned into silence. Viggo was well-known in New Zealand for his affable willingness to eat just about anything you put down in front of him. Including, notoriously, fresh roadkill. Orlando had no idea the man could actually get tired of something. "Hope you don't get tired of me, old man," he said with a little smile. "I'm pretty much always the same."
"You're never the same, Lan." Viggo wrapped his arms around the younger man and kissed his curly hair. "And even if you were, I wouldn't get tired of you."
"So you say."
"So I say." A portentous pause. "And so it shall be. For I am the king."
Orlando snorted, blew a raspberry noisily against Viggo's neck and sauntered off to the kitchen to try and talk Elena out of some samples.
----
Henry arrived Sunday afternoon, and Orlando was nervous as a cat. He changed clothes twice during the morning, sending Viggo into gales of laughter.
"Lan, he's not going to notice what you're wearing. He's a 14-year-old boy. He can barely see anything beyond his own nose."
"I just don't want him to think I'm a dork."
"Will you relax? He likes you. I already told you. He's okay with you being here. He's okay with us, as long as he doesn't have to watch us making out. It's me he has a problem with, not you."
"But why, Vig? Why's he upset with you?"
"It's complicated, babe." Viggo fell down on the couch on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. "I think he sees it as me betraying his mother, maybe."
"But you're divorced. And you said she's had boyfriends."
"Yeah, she has. And Henry hasn't liked it. He's found a reason to hate every single one of them. But I ... I guess he feels like I kinda stayed true. I mean, I've dated a few people here and there, but nobody seriously."
And I never brought anybody home, Viggo thought, because he was pretty sure that was a big part of Henry's anger at him. Exene tended to bring even the most temporary of boyfriends home, and Henry had told his dad how much he hated never knowing when there might be some new stranger at the breakfast table or coming out of the bathroom half-dressed. Which was why Viggo never brought any of his dates home. If they were going to be out all night, they'd go to her place or a hotel. But now he'd invited Orlando into their home, and Henry was pissed. Not at Orlando, whom he kinda thought was cool, but at his father, who had finally broken the faith. He wasn't about to tell Orlando that, though.
"He'll get over it. Don't worry."
"You're sure?"
"If I'm lying, I'm dying," Viggo said with a little grin. "I got you a present."
"You did?" Orlando lit up like Christmas morning, and Viggo had to chuckle a little. Sometimes the younger man's exuberance made him seem all of 12 years old. And sometimes he was as easy to distract as a kid. Just dangle a gift or something shiny in front of him, and he was a goner.
"Go check the kitchen counter."
Orlando bounced up and dashed into the kitchen, his nervousness about Henry forgotten. Viggo absently counted under his breath, and had only made it up to six when there was a blur of motion and he was suddenly covered by a warm coat of delighted elf boy. "A kettle! You got me a proper kettle!" Orlando rained kisses all over Viggo's grinning face. "Oh, I can make you a real cuppa tea now. You'll see how it should be. Wean you away from that awful stuff in the little bong pots."
Viggo laughed. "They're not bong pots, y'goofball. They're mates."
"Whatever. They're nasty."
"Philistine."
Orlando had just leaned down to stop the discussion with a kiss when the front door opened. In the ensuing scramble, Orlando ended up on the floor and Viggo ended up reclining in one corner of the couch with some seriously tousled hair. Henry stopped two steps into the living room and just looked at them for a long moment, before shrugging his backpack more securely onto one shoulder, a habitual motion.
"Hey, Orli," the teen-ager said finally, and gave Orlando a small but welcoming smile.
"Henry!" Orlando scrambled up from the floor and darted over to give the awkward boy a rambunctious hug. "Long time. Duct-taped any houses lately?"
Henry flicked a glance at his father, then grinned at Orlando. "Nah. But I find ways to keep busy. Man, you look cool." The ultimate teen accolade as he took in Orlando's camo pants, khaki tank and loose black shirt. "You still any good at Playstation?"
"Only get a chance to play when I see Lij." Orlando reached over to ruffle the boy's jet-black hair. "I like this. Going goth?"
Viggo sat silent and watched as the two of them touched on shared bases, re-establishing connections they'd formed during Henry's visits to New Zealand. They made him feel fucking old, and he hated that, but he couldn't bring himself to try to act like a teen-ager just to be part of it. That time was past for him, and just as well. Absently he touched the scar on his upper lip, then transferred the gesture to a rubbing of his neck.
"Hey, Vig... I'm gonna help Henry take his stuff to his room and look at some things, okay?" Orlando said. The look in those chocolate eyes, when Vig looked up, was so relieved and joyful that he couldn't begin to resent anything.
"Sure thing. I may be in the studio."
"But we'll go shopping later," Orlando said. "For proper tea."
"You bet." Viggo watched as Orlando picked up Henry's small suitcase and the two of them started down the hallway to the bedrooms. Three steps into the hallway, Henry finally turned around and looked at him.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, son. Glad you're home."
Henry considered him for a long moment, from that face so much like Exene's, then nodded and vanished into his room.
Viggo sat back down on the couch and stared out the window for a while, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. Then he decided whatever it was, he wanted to do it. He wanted this liveliness, this exuberance in his life, and by god he could figure out a way to overcome any problems.
Even if it meant he had to drink tea.
--------
Viggo is a tenacious man. When he decides something is worth doing, or having, or fighting for, he can become implacable. He is a master of passive aggression, of passive resistance. He is a Ghandi of getting his way. He is a patient man, and can wait out almost anything... temperamental wives, high-strung children, asswipe directors, ego-ridden co-stars.
He simply knows what he wants, gets it clear in his mind, puts elements in place to make it happen, and then waits.
He likes to think this works.
Sometimes he knows he's a total fucking idiot.
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 07:30 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you're enjoying this. I'm having way the hell too much fun writing it, even if it is making me lose sleep.
Rain
no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 07:40 pm (UTC)"I hate you so much I can't imagine being with you forever." Orlando's voice was trembling slightly and he began to turn into Viggo's arms.
"I hate you so much I can't imagine ever letting you go."
*loves* I'm dying to see how they got from this to barely being able to be in the same room together.
This fic is fabulous and I absolutely can't wait for more.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 07:44 pm (UTC)I started reading and had to stop to find an incense to light. It had to be sandalwood.
When I finished the chapter, the first thing I did was scroll back to the top, to see which group this was posted through.. looking to see if I can count on a happy ending or have the tissues ready, just in case.
I really love this story, the past/present, the descriptions of their personalities, everything, it's excellent!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 08:23 pm (UTC)the "i hate you" discussion was brilliant.
*sigh*
Date: 2005-01-19 01:36 am (UTC)I just wanted you to know, so that you'll continue to update. I want.. no I need to know how this turns out.
Keep it up!