FIC: Lifeline

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

Something a little less fluffy.

Title: Lifeline
Author:  ranmaru
Rating: PG
Summary: Contrasts.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.

“You mumble.”

 

Viggo flinched in surprise at hearing a voice so close and he looked up from his script. Orlando was sitting across from him at the long aluminum picnic table, elbows on the surface and leaning over, an intense look on his handsome face. Viggo gave himself a mental kick for being so immersed in his own private Middle Earth that he’d shut out the real world around him. But what was Orli going on about?

 

“What?”

 

“When you’re not Aragorn, you mumble. It’s annoying.”

 

The older man would have taken offense if not for the friendly grin on the kid’s face. Not so much a kid, really, but come on, he had a Mohawk for Christ’s sake. “And you’re telling me this why?”

 

“I don’t know. Making conversation.”

 

“One generally doesn’t start a conversation by insulting someone. That’s how you start arguments.” Viggo rolled up his script and thwapped his companion on the head. ‘Thwapped.’ He liked that word.

 

“Hey! You’re lucky they took away my bow.” Orli rubbed his head and scowled. The Brit was utterly charming, Viggo had soon realized after meeting him. A child’s heart with adult eyes. He made the Dane long for his son and eager to see the man Henry would grow up to be.

 

“If you hadn’t taken to shooting arrows at random objects…” Viggo smirked at the flush that spread over Orli’s face.

 

“They weren’t random,” Orlando muttered. “I was aiming.”

 

“Right. If that Elven cape had offended you so much you should have said something.” Viggo grinned remembering the innocent garment, hanging outside of one of the various trailers on the set, drying in the warm New Zealand breeze…an arrow piercing it through the center.

 

“Elijah moved.”

 

“I don’t think Peter would have appreciated having his main star skewered by someone who had sworn to protect him.” Orlando was glaring at him, long fingers drumming against the table. He looked embarrassed and angry. Viggo wished he were in a chair so he could sit back and enjoy.

 

“Shut. Up.” Orli’s lips were tight but there was a glint in his eyes that said he wasn’t as mad as he was trying to be.

 

Viggo reached over and covered Orli’s hand with one of his own, ready to give an apology but at the first contact of skin on skin all words fled from his brain and he was left helplessly staring into wide brown eyes that looked as shocked as he felt.

 

Smooth skin that should be rough, like his own, after being exposed to the elements for so long, and a warmth that left him shaking. He could feel the delicate bones beneath the thin layer of skin, but he’d seen those hands handle a bow, handle the graceful short swords, and knew the strength those bones held. He wanted to pull away but couldn’t. His own hands were so worn, old and cracked. He’d begun to think that some of the dirt was permanently etched into his skin.

 

Yet at the same time he wanted to touch Orlando everywhere with his farmer’s hands. Wanted to experience the textures of shivering gooseflesh beneath his fingertips as he tasted the blue veined skin on the inside of Orli’s elbow. He wanted to examine the difference in color as he ran his hands down the younger man’s chest, sun-scorched tan against sun-kissed.

 

Viggo shuddered, imagining the white of Orlando’s teeth as they closed around one of his fingers, pink tongue against calloused pads. What would he taste like to Orli?

 

“Is this a moment or can anyone interrupt?”

 

The actors jumped apart at Billy’s cheerful brogue. Viggo tried to reach out to Orli but the Brit ended up falling backwards from the table landing with a soft grunt. He was in a crouch less than a second later, breathing hard and visibly trembling. He stared at Viggo, brown eyes narrowed, as if he was both afraid and puzzled.

 

Viggo swallowed, not knowing what to say, mystified at his own reactions to such a simple touch. He didn’t follow Orlando, except with his pleading eyes, as the younger man stumbled away. Orli didn’t look back, but Viggo hadn’t expected him to.

 

“I’m sorry,” Billy murmured softly. “I didn’t realize…”

 

Viggo shook his head as he gazed down at his hands. “Neither did I.”

 

He didn’t hear the other man move away, too concentrated on the line of his right palm that connected to his wrist where he could see his pulse fluttering.

 

END