vigorli

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Title: Take Care of Me
Author: Liriel
Pairing: VM/OB, slight SB/EW
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU
Summary: Orlando and Elijah are flatmates, living in London. One afternoon they are overheard whinging about how easy girls have it. A challenge is issued. Will they accept it?
Beta: The incomparable, unforgettable

catlover2x Mwaaah
A/N: I know, and you know that most women don't have it this easy. So don't blame me, the opinions expressed in this story are those of the characters and not the poor author, who's just recording the events and thoughts.
A/N2: Special thanks to

mesnica for the awesome banner!

A low, pain-filled groan issued from the mound of bedclothes. After another groan, the covers were feebly pushed back to reveal a very hung-over Orlando, who squinted against the bright sunlight that filled the bedroom before rolling over to his left side and burrowing his face into the pillow once more. The scent of Viggo's aftershave filled his nose, awakening vague memories of the previous night.

Orlando groaned, the pounding in his head increasing as he thought about his behaviour of the previous night. Maybe it had been a dream and he hadn't really forced himself on Viggo? A quick peek beneath the covers confirmed his worst fears; he was naked.

“Oh fuck,” the young man moaned softly. “What have I done?” His stomach roiled as his memory supplied him with the image of him begging Viggo to take him. Unable to manage the nausea any longer, Orlando rolled out of bed and raced to the ensuite, falling to his knees in front of the toilet to empty his stomach.

The sound of a throat being cleared made Orlando flinch and bury his head in his arm where it was draped around the toilet bowl.

Viggo smiled sympathetically at the sight of the miserable young man in front of him. He'd wondered just how hung-over Orlando would be when he finally woke. “You'll feel better if you have a shower and something to eat,” he said quietly.

Orlando moaned and retched once more at the thought of putting food anywhere near his mouth. “Just let me die now, please,” he begged in a hoarse whisper. He jumped when he felt a cool cloth draped over the back of his neck.

“Have a shower, Orlando,” Viggo encouraged, carefully not looking at the swell of the young man's bare buttocks as he rested back on his heels. “I'll get you some aspirin and tea.”

Waiting until he heard the older man leave the bathroom, Orlando reluctantly dragged himself upright and shuffled over to the shower. Turning the cold water on first, he stuck his head beneath the spray, gasping at the shock of the frigid water. When his head no longer felt like it was about to explode, he gradually added hot water to the mix until he could barely stand the heat of the water.

Billows of steam clouded the bathroom as the miserable young man carefully washed himself, every movement as slow as he could make it so as not to jar his head from his shoulders. When he emerged from the shower, he saw a clean t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants sitting on the vanity counter beside a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Apparently Viggo expected him to spend the rest of the day in bed recuperating, Orlando realized gratefully. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he reached for the aspirin, gratefully swallowing two tablets before drying off and dressing.

Orlando wiped the condensation off the mirror and looked at his reflection. Yes, it was confirmed, he looked just as bad as he felt. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in a week. He flinched with each throb of pain, wondering if he could possibly just crawl back into bed and stay there until the world ended. He didn't know how Viggo was going to act towards him today, and he really didn't feel up to admitting to the older man that he had been drunk off his face and would have shagged anyone.

Out of nowhere, Orlando wondered if his arse was supposed to be sore after being shagged for the first time. He'd forgotten to ask Lij if it hurt, although he couldn't imagine having anything shoved up your arse would feel very good at all. Experimentally, he flexed his arse muscles... no, his arse definitely didn't hurt. Maybe Viggo had just stripped him off and rolled him into bed? But he could definitely remember kissing, and he thought he could remember Viggo sucking his nipples...

A shudder of remembered arousal wracked his body as Orlando remembered how good it had felt when Viggo had played with his nipples. He'd never thought his nipples were particularly sensitive before. He wondered what other secret sensitive spots his body was concealing from him. With a quiet groan, Orlando decided it was too much to think about now, especially as his brain hurt. He headed out of the bathroom, pausing at the bathroom door as his entrance into the bedroom coincided with Viggo's entry from the hallway. The older man carried a tray, but Orlando couldn't make out what was on it from where he stood.

“Climb back into bed,” Viggo said sympathetically as he took in Orlando's still shattered appearance. “I convinced Mrs Bennett that you'd be very happy with just a cup of tea and some plain toast.”

“I don't think I even want that,” Orlando said hesitantly, as he edged further into the room. He was grateful that Viggo didn't come any closer as he slid back into bed.

“Just some tea and toast,” Viggo encouraged, moving to the side of the bed once Orlando was safely ensconced beneath the covers. He placed the tray on the young man's lap, noting the way the slender body trembled at his proximity and how Orlando looked everywhere but at him. “Have something to eat, Orlando, and then you'll probably want to go back to sleep for a while. I'll be in my study if you want to talk later.”

Nodding his head mutely, Orlando didn't move until Viggo had left the room. He sagged against the pillows as the bedroom door closed. The young man closed his eyes in despair, holding back a quiet sob. This was so not good. He felt totally unable to cope with the change in their relationship, if you could call it that. One glittering tear rolled down his cheek as Orlando contemplated the tray of food on his lap. He didn't know what to think or how to feel anymore.

Orlando spent the rest of the day in bed, alternately sleeping and trying not to think about what had happened the previous night.

When Viggo finally returned to the bedroom for the night, Orlando was asleep again. With a heavy heart, the older man prepared for bed, and climbed in, turning onto his side to stare at the sleeping young man for a while before closing his own eyes. He wanted to resolve the uneasiness between them, but he didn't want to push Orlando too hard. He hoped the young man would be prepared to talk when Viggo returned from work the next day.

*****
Orlando walked slowly down the stairs, his mind preoccupied with the thoughts he'd been avoiding since waking up yesterday. He'd actually been awake when Viggo got up, but he'd taken the coward's way out and pretended he was still asleep. He'd almost given the game away when he'd felt the older man lean over and press a soft kiss to his temple before leaving the room. As soon as the bedroom door had closed, his eyes had flown open and his hand reached up to the spot Viggo had kissed.

That wasn't the action of a man who assumed that they were now going to enter into a regular sexual relationship... was it? The kiss had felt... tender, almost hesitant, as though Viggo was afraid that he would be rebuffed, even though he had to know by now that Orlando could sleep through a bomb blast.

Ignoring his rumbling stomach, Orlando retrieved his coat and scarf from the hall closet, intent on going for a walk to sort things out in his mind before he did anything else. He paid no attention to the lowering clouds that made it seem more like late afternoon than mid-morning. Stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strode purposefully down the street, Orlando's attention was turned to his thoughts, paying no attention to where he walked as he tried to sort out his confusion over just how he felt about Viggo.

Coming across a small wooded area, Orlando's footsteps led him into the small copse of trees. He wandered aimlessly, his mind flitting between wanting to run away and wanting to go back and have Viggo hold him and kiss him again. The young man stumbled and reached out a hand to break his fall. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he looked at the ground to see what had tripped him.

He picked up the piece of deadwood that must have fallen from one of the trees in a storm, his artist's eye immediately appreciating the beauty of the shape of the wood. The piece was about ten inches long and looked very much like a human form curled protectively around something. Examining the wood further, Orlando realized that cradled within the larger piece of wood was a small, slender piece of wood. He fiddled with the smaller bit, trying to remove it. The smaller piece of wood, though it moved freely within the cradle of the large piece that had tripped Orlando, could not be removed.

Holding the wood in his hands, Orlando realized that it was very symbolic of his relationship with Viggo. The older man was taking care of him, and protecting him, but allowing Orlando the freedom to move the relationship along at his own pace.

Nestling the wood in the curve of his arm, Orlando rose to his feet. He would take his find home and polish it and give it to Viggo. Perhaps the wood could tell Viggo what he found so difficult to put into words. He wanted what Viggo had offered him, even though he was still afraid. Slowly, the young man made his way out of the trees, his mind now working feverishly to decide how he would finish off what nature had started, so that it would be something Viggo might like.

When the first fat raindrops fell, Orlando looked up in confusion, his gaze focusing outward for the first time since he'd left home. He looked around himself, realizing that he had no idea where he was or how far he'd walked. The young man stood in the middle of the footpath, chewing his lip indecisively as the rain began to fall heavier. Finally, he turned about and began to attempt to retrace his steps.

Orlando shivered as the cold rain trickled down the back of his neck. He'd been walking so long, and it was raining so hard that he was soaked to the skin. He was completely miserable and still had no idea where he was. Spying a small shop on the next corner, he quickly made his way there, shivering as he entered the warmth of the store after the cold wetness of the street.

“I'm sorry to trouble you,” the young man began nervously as he approached the gruff looking old man behind the counter. “I seem to have lost my way, can you tell me how to get to Wilmont Street?”

“You're a long way from there, mate,” the grizzled shopkeeper said kindly.

“I was afraid of that,” Orlando said miserably. “I went for a walk... and I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking... I need to get home.” The young man bit back the sob that threatened to escape with the last words.

“Right, you want to get home, then. You can't call someone to come and collect you?”

Orlando shook his head mutely. He didn't want to admit that he had no idea what the phone number was, he felt enough of an idiot for getting lost.

“Alright then...” The shopkeeper began explaining how Orlando could get back home, stopping several times to make sure the young man understood. At last, he drew a map, hoping it would stay dry enough for the sodden lad to at least find a landmark that he recognized.

“Thank you for your help,” Orlando said, swallowing against the scratchy feeling that was growing in his throat. Folding the map carefully, he stowed it in his pocket before making his way out of the shop with new determination to get back to Viggo's house. He cradled his treasured piece of wood in the crook of his arm as he plodded along innumerable streets.

After trudging what felt like miles, getting more miserable with each step, Orlando finally reached a street that he recognized. His eyes brimming with tears of relief, he turned down the street that would lead to Viggo's house.

The front door opened as he approached the house, revealing a very worried Mrs Bennett.

“What on earth were you thinking, you silly boy!” The housekeeper scolded as she pulled Orlando through the door, closing the rainy weather out. “You'll catch your death of cold wandering around in the rain like that. Just look at you, you're soaked to the skin!”

Mrs Bennett worked quickly, unbuttoning the young man's coat as she spoke and stripping it off him. She called for Jill to bring towels as she dropped the coat on the floor and began to unwind the sodden scarf from Orlando's neck.

“I'm sorry,” Orlando sobbed, head bowed as he accepted the housekeeper's rebuke, not realizing that it was only her concern for him that saw her scold him in such manner. “No,” he begged when his gift for Viggo was taken from him. “I need that, please.”

“It's just a dirty piece of wood,” Mrs Bennett tutted.

“Please, I need it,” Orlando begged, his body shivering with the cold as he reached out to reclaim his treasure.

“Go up to Orlando's room and run a hot bath,” Mrs Bennett instructed Jill as the young girl arrived with the towels. “The master suite,” the housekeeper clarified with exasperation when it looked as though the stupid girl was going to query which room was Orlando's.

Jill nodded and hurried back up the stairs to do as she was bid, glancing over her shoulder once to see the housekeeper peeling Orlando's wet clothes off.

When she had the shivering young man stripped down to his boxers, Mrs Bennett wrapped a towel around his shoulders and one around his waist. Then she proceeded to rub his hair dry. When she was satisfied that he wasn't going to track puddles of water through the house, she gave him a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. “Go get in the bath that silly girl should have drawn by now. I'll send Lawrence up to help you.”

Unable to stop his crying, Orlando just nodded, gripping each towel with one hand, his treasured piece of wood safely tucked under his arm, as he trudged up the stairs. He paid no attention to Jill who was just exiting the ensuite as he entered the bedroom. Wiping his face with the edge of the towel that was around his shoulders clutched firmly in his hand, the young man stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door.

*****

Viggo closed the front door behind him with a heavy sigh. The rain that had fallen for most of the day mirrored his mood. He feared that he had lost any progress he'd made with Orlando and was afraid that the young man would have taken the opportunity of Viggo being at work to slip away, leaving him alone again.

“Oh good, you're home,” Mrs Bennett said as she entered the front hall. She'd been hoping that Viggo would come home early tonight. She was worried about Orlando and hoped the older man could talk some sense into him.

“Yes, I'm home,” Viggo agreed. “Where's Orlando?” he asked, voicing the question he feared the answer to. He'd never been one to back away from any unpleasantness and preferred to know as soon as possible if he'd totally fucked things up by giving in to the young man when he was drunk.

“He's up in bed... at least he'd better be,” the housekeeper said sternly. “The silly boy went out for a walk without telling anyone and got caught in the rain. I shouldn't be surprised if he caught his death of cold.”

As Mrs Bennett continued to explain that Orlando had been gone for most of the day and had come back soaked to the skin, Viggo removed his coat and tossed it on the hall settle. He took the housekeeper's hands between his own to still her words. “Thank you for taking care of Orlando for me today,” the businessman said before taking the stairs two at a time, eager to see for himself that Orlando was still there.

Entering the bedroom, Viggo crossed to the bed and looked down at the sleeping young man. Orlando was curled onto his side, one hand tucked under his chin, the other resting on top of the covers. His face was very pale and his body shook as though in an icy wind.

Pressing the back of his hand to Orlando's forehead, Viggo sighed, “Oh baby, what have you done to yourself?”

The young man had a fever and from the sounds of his congested breathing, he was going to have a very bad cold, at the very least. He piled the pillows against the headboard, propping Orlando up to ease his breathing. Tucking Orlando's hand beneath the covers, Viggo pulled the comforter up around the young man's shoulders. He pulled the chair from against the wall to sit beside the bed, and sat watching the beautiful young man who'd stolen his heart sleep.
TBC