vigorli

Another word prompt fic. And I'll apologize ahead of time if either of the two songs mentioned gets stuck in your head. Every time I've re-read this I've had to listen to the radio so I'd be safe. No offense to either bands, but the songs just won't go away! AND...I've decided to get a world map so I can mark where everyone who responded to that post is from! Future vacation destinations! Ha ha! So, enjoy the wacky world of VigOrli, I hope it puts a smile on your face this morning!!

Title: 3. Library
Author: Ranmaru
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In Germany, Orli comes home to hear Viggo singing that song!
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing. (NOTE: Is one Euro a cheap amount for a used book?)

Orlando juggled the stack of books in his hands and the keys to the apartment Viggo was renting while he was researching his new role for an upcoming film. He’d just returned from a trip to the local library where he’d found a bin of books for one Euro each. What had possessed him to buy seven books, all in German, he wasn’t quite sure. It was an old library, with that musty paper smell and gleaming, intricately carved bookcases. He’d wandered through the aisles listening to the hushed voices speaking a language he barely understood and feeling like he’d stepped back in time. Maybe a spirit had taken over his body, fueled by the need to know the feel of a book in hand once again.

Or he was just crazy.

After all, a sane person would put down the books in order to find the keys and open the door but he wasn’t sane so he didn’t. He managed to keep all but one of the books in his hands by the time the door was opened and he gently nudged the fallen book over the threshold with the toe of his sneaker.

He closed the door, toed off his shoes, picked up the book and set off to find Viggo to show his lover his treasures. The older man was in his usual place, out on the small balcony that overlooked the side street the apartment building was located on, working on a painting he’d begun the day after Orli had arrived a week earlier.

Viggo was squinting at the canvas, a paintbrush in one hand, another stuck behind one ear. He was humming, occasionally singing whatever song had become looped in his mental soundtrack. Orlando crept closer.

“There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Orlando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Orlando.”

Orlando froze, blinked, listened some more.

“Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Orlando.”

Viggo Mortensen was singing the ABBA song “Fernando.” The song Orlando had been tormented with by his sister for years growing up. Viggo knew that. The Brit had told him one night in New Zealand. Something had to be done.

“You have just forfeited your right to sex tonight. Possibly the week.”

Viggo went still. “Oops.”

“Oops.”

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh no, of course not. Too busy singing that asinine song.”

Viggo set down his paint brush very carefully before turning to face the irate Brit. “Your sister called.”

“I hate you both.”

“She started it!” Viggo blinked. “Did I just say that?”

“I don’t care who –“

“It’s stuck in my head!” Viggo growled and shoved his paint splattered fingers through his hair causing the paintbrush behind his ear to clatter to the floor. He frowned down then looked back up at Orli. “I had to sing, it was driving me mad!”

“You substituted my name.”

“I like your name much better,” Viggo declared. “Or-“

“You. Suck.”

“Oh yeah?” Viggo stalked up to his lover and glared. “I dug my keys into the side of his-“

“Argh!” Orlando dropped the books, clapped his hands over his ears and ran for the safety of the bedroom, Viggo bellowing out lyrics and chasing after him.

“Pretty little suped up four wheeled drive! Carved my name into his leather seeeeaaatts!”

“La la la la laaaa!’ Orli yelled in an attempt to drown out Viggo’s voice. He fell on the bed and rolled fetal but Viggo just followed him down, straddled his hips and forced him to his back.

“Took a Louisville Slugger to both headlights!” Viggo grabbed Orlando’s wrists, forcing his arms over his head. “Slashed a hole…in…hee heee…” And then he was laughing that mad little laugh that used to make Elijah wide-eyed and pale and just made Orlando fall in love with him a little bit more. The Brit couldn’t help but smile as the older man shook with laughter and situated himself until he was laying flat over Orlando, one thigh pressed quite nicely against Orli’s crotch.

“That was evil,” the younger man muttered, that damned song by Carrie Underwood now stuck in his head. He blamed his sister for that one too. He was never letting her visit him in L.A. ever again. He didn’t care if she’d gone through a bad break up. Nothing excused that damned song being played until blood was trickling from his ears.

“Peace?” Viggo let go of one of Orlando’s wrists and slid his hand down and around until he had a handful of Orli’s jean-clad butt. “I’ll be very sorry, and you can be very sorry and orgasms will be had by all.”

“No more ABBA.”

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” Orlando closed his eyes and tilted his chin back so Viggo could nuzzle his neck - which he did. “I bought books,” he said softly on a moan.

“You dropped books,” Viggo murmured hotly in Orli’s ear. The Brit shivered and rubbed himself against his lover’s thigh.

“They’re in German.”

“You don’t read German.”

“Do you?”

“A little.”

“Hmmm…”

“We done talking?” Viggo licked his way to Orli’s mouth then held there, waiting.

Orlando opened his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good.”