ficlet 5 (geek!Orlando/Viggo, adult)
Mar. 25th, 2007 06:45 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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galor5! squeeeeeeee!
author: stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 4
Only twenty-five minutes later, Elijah returned. “You’re back already?” Orlando asked unnecessarily.
“Dude, that Viggo guy is so lame!” Elijah snorted as he joined Orlando behind the Computer Department counter. “I barely got to the door and he was changing his mind!”
“Huh?” Orlando stuttered.
“The guy must have like, zero clue about anything that runs on electricity. Have you seen his Customer History? He’s had like a buhjillion repair calls in the last two weeks.” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Oh, he asked about you.”
Orlando froze. “Uh… he did?”
“Yeah, man. He asked where you were, and I told him you weren’t feeling good so I took the call for you,” Elijah said, rooting around in his pocket. “Then he said he thought his computer was probably running fine after all, and he thanked me for coming over and told me I could just head out.”
“Oh,” Orlando said, barely heard. Then, as an afterthought, “Um… was he wearing a shirt?”
Elijah shrugged and popped a piece of Bubblicious into his mouth. “Not when I got there, man, but he was pulling one on as he was rushing me out of there. He didn’t even let me in the door. Weird guy.”
Orlando blinked.
“Dude, you got any tape with you?” Elijah stuck his arms straight out in front of him, waving around in exaggerated circles. “My frames are loose again. I feel like I’m walking around in a fuckin’ House of Mirrors here.”
Orlando dazedly handed Elijah the roll of electric tape he kept in the drawer right between the monitor screen cleaner wipes and the little package of Kleenex he kept for emergency nosebleeds.
Viggo had asked about him?
Holy moly.
- - -
It was almost the end of shift. Orlando was entering SKU numbers from a batch of really cool nVIDIA GeForce 1400 graphics cards that had come in when he heard a customer do the excuse-me-I-need-help-please throat-clearing thing. He turned.
There in front of him was a big bunch of bright orange roses.
They were holding Viggo.
Er – no… Viggo was holding them. The roses. Orange ones.
Oh god.
Orlando’s eyes bugged out.
“Hello, Orlando,” came that deep, gentle voice.
From Viggo. Not the roses.
“Um,” Orlando squeaked. “Hi. Um.”
Elijah finished with his Mac customer and turned around. His eyes bugged out.
“Hello again,” Viggo smiled at Elijah. He turned back to Orlando. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Um,” Orlando’s eyes wouldn’t go back to unbugged-out. Elijah elbowed him.
“Yeah, he has a minute,” Elijah piped up. “I can hold things down here. Appliances looks pretty dead right now.” He pointed.
Viggo gestured to allow Orlando to lead the way. Orlando somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other and end up in the refrigerator aisle.
It was deserted. He stopped at the KitchenAid French door model and turned, half expecting that Imaginary Viggo and his Imaginary roses would just be gone.
Nope. There were the orange roses. With Viggo attached.
“I hope this is alright, coming here like this.” Viggo started.
“Um, sure,” Orlando said. “Lots of people come here.”
Viggo smiled. “I meant, I hope it’s alright to come here to see you.”
“You came here… to see… me?” Orlando stammered.
“Sure I did,” Viggo said. “Brought you these, too.” He handed the roses carefully to the trembling technician. “You look really surprised.”
“Umb, yeah. I amb. Suhprised, I mean. I mean, I – I thought…. “
“What did you think?” Viggo prodded, speaking in a soft, reassuring tone that melted Orlando’s brain.
“Well, I kinda left yestehday befoe… um….ah… ah-CHOO!” Orlando went for the Western hemisphere stammering record before he was interrupted by a sneeze.
“It’s alright, Orlando,” Viggo soothed.
“Ah you sure dese rotheth ah for me?” Orlando sniffed rather unromantically.
“I’m sure. Who else would they be for?”
Orlando sneezed again, louder this time, and then super-stammered. “But you - - um… you dibn’t… and I left….”
“You can leave whenever you want to. It’s been ages since I’ve forced anyone against their will.” Viggo grinned.
Orlando’s mouth fell open.
“Kidding, Orlando. I’m kidding.” Viggo took pity on the delightfully nervous man. “Look, I came here to tell you I’m sorry.”
Orlando’s mouth fell open further.
“No, really. I owe you an apology,” Viggo said. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
“Th - - this?” Orlando felt a little faint. He sneezed again and almost lost a filling.
“You’re allergic? Viggo asked, gently taking the roses from Orlando. Orlando nodded and sniffed again.
“How about I put these in some water over at your counter for you after we talk.”
Blink. Nod. Sniff.
“As I was saying, then. I’ve been going about this all wrong, and I’ve come to see if you’ll let me make it right. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Orlando wobbled on his feet. Viggo’s hand reached out to take his arm.
“Friday night is Laundry Night,” he mumbled absently, eyes glazed.
“I see,” Viggo’s eyes crinkled in that smiley thing. “Do you think there’s any way I could convince your laundry to wait until Saturday morning?”
Orlando looked at Viggo blankly for a few moments. And nodded.
ETA: continued here
galor5! squeeeeeeee!author: stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: m/m sex; otherwise, none
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 4
Only twenty-five minutes later, Elijah returned. “You’re back already?” Orlando asked unnecessarily.
“Dude, that Viggo guy is so lame!” Elijah snorted as he joined Orlando behind the Computer Department counter. “I barely got to the door and he was changing his mind!”
“Huh?” Orlando stuttered.
“The guy must have like, zero clue about anything that runs on electricity. Have you seen his Customer History? He’s had like a buhjillion repair calls in the last two weeks.” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Oh, he asked about you.”
Orlando froze. “Uh… he did?”
“Yeah, man. He asked where you were, and I told him you weren’t feeling good so I took the call for you,” Elijah said, rooting around in his pocket. “Then he said he thought his computer was probably running fine after all, and he thanked me for coming over and told me I could just head out.”
“Oh,” Orlando said, barely heard. Then, as an afterthought, “Um… was he wearing a shirt?”
Elijah shrugged and popped a piece of Bubblicious into his mouth. “Not when I got there, man, but he was pulling one on as he was rushing me out of there. He didn’t even let me in the door. Weird guy.”
Orlando blinked.
“Dude, you got any tape with you?” Elijah stuck his arms straight out in front of him, waving around in exaggerated circles. “My frames are loose again. I feel like I’m walking around in a fuckin’ House of Mirrors here.”
Orlando dazedly handed Elijah the roll of electric tape he kept in the drawer right between the monitor screen cleaner wipes and the little package of Kleenex he kept for emergency nosebleeds.
Viggo had asked about him?
Holy moly.
- - -
It was almost the end of shift. Orlando was entering SKU numbers from a batch of really cool nVIDIA GeForce 1400 graphics cards that had come in when he heard a customer do the excuse-me-I-need-help-please throat-clearing thing. He turned.
There in front of him was a big bunch of bright orange roses.
They were holding Viggo.
Er – no… Viggo was holding them. The roses. Orange ones.
Oh god.
Orlando’s eyes bugged out.
“Hello, Orlando,” came that deep, gentle voice.
From Viggo. Not the roses.
“Um,” Orlando squeaked. “Hi. Um.”
Elijah finished with his Mac customer and turned around. His eyes bugged out.
“Hello again,” Viggo smiled at Elijah. He turned back to Orlando. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Um,” Orlando’s eyes wouldn’t go back to unbugged-out. Elijah elbowed him.
“Yeah, he has a minute,” Elijah piped up. “I can hold things down here. Appliances looks pretty dead right now.” He pointed.
Viggo gestured to allow Orlando to lead the way. Orlando somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other and end up in the refrigerator aisle.
It was deserted. He stopped at the KitchenAid French door model and turned, half expecting that Imaginary Viggo and his Imaginary roses would just be gone.
Nope. There were the orange roses. With Viggo attached.
“I hope this is alright, coming here like this.” Viggo started.
“Um, sure,” Orlando said. “Lots of people come here.”
Viggo smiled. “I meant, I hope it’s alright to come here to see you.”
“You came here… to see… me?” Orlando stammered.
“Sure I did,” Viggo said. “Brought you these, too.” He handed the roses carefully to the trembling technician. “You look really surprised.”
“Umb, yeah. I amb. Suhprised, I mean. I mean, I – I thought…. “
“What did you think?” Viggo prodded, speaking in a soft, reassuring tone that melted Orlando’s brain.
“Well, I kinda left yestehday befoe… um….ah… ah-CHOO!” Orlando went for the Western hemisphere stammering record before he was interrupted by a sneeze.
“It’s alright, Orlando,” Viggo soothed.
“Ah you sure dese rotheth ah for me?” Orlando sniffed rather unromantically.
“I’m sure. Who else would they be for?”
Orlando sneezed again, louder this time, and then super-stammered. “But you - - um… you dibn’t… and I left….”
“You can leave whenever you want to. It’s been ages since I’ve forced anyone against their will.” Viggo grinned.
Orlando’s mouth fell open.
“Kidding, Orlando. I’m kidding.” Viggo took pity on the delightfully nervous man. “Look, I came here to tell you I’m sorry.”
Orlando’s mouth fell open further.
“No, really. I owe you an apology,” Viggo said. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
“Th - - this?” Orlando felt a little faint. He sneezed again and almost lost a filling.
“You’re allergic? Viggo asked, gently taking the roses from Orlando. Orlando nodded and sniffed again.
“How about I put these in some water over at your counter for you after we talk.”
Blink. Nod. Sniff.
“As I was saying, then. I’ve been going about this all wrong, and I’ve come to see if you’ll let me make it right. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Orlando wobbled on his feet. Viggo’s hand reached out to take his arm.
“Friday night is Laundry Night,” he mumbled absently, eyes glazed.
“I see,” Viggo’s eyes crinkled in that smiley thing. “Do you think there’s any way I could convince your laundry to wait until Saturday morning?”
Orlando looked at Viggo blankly for a few moments. And nodded.
ETA: continued here
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