vigorli

Started in '02 or '03 and recently finished.

Title: Camping Sucks (1/7)
Author: Ranmaru
Rating: R (until it turns NC-17)
Summary: Viggo takes Orlando camping...and Orlando isn't all that happy about it.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.
Beta approved by the wonderful

dienwand

queen_mean_jean!

Camping Sucks

by ranmaru

PART ONE

“There are a lot of trees,” Orlando casually observed from the passenger seat of their rented Ford Explorer. At least, that’s how he hoped he sounded - casual and uncaring. Definitely not slightly panicked and caring, oh so very much caring. Orli loved trees, had developed a fascination for them while in New Zealand, but the truth of it was, trees were in forests and forests held an abundance of bugs. Many, many more bugs than say…your average lawn.

“Most mountains do have a large quantity of trees,” Viggo agreed, and Orli didn’t have to look to know he was smiling ear to ear because the fucking guy just knew the Brit was nervous as hell and trying to be cool.

“I might be allergic to trees,” Orli offered, wanting to close his eyes and open them to reveal the dirt-ridden buildings of familiarity. Trees were Nature’s children but the fucking bugs…

“I’m pretty sure I packed some allergy stuff.”

“That’s good.” Maybe being out in the middle of no-fucking-where was a good idea after all. No one would hear Viggo scream and there’d be plenty of places to hide the body.

“Henry knows where we’ll be staying.”

Oh, he was a right bastard. Mind reading was not allowed in this relationship. “And why am I here instead of him?”

“Said he’s too old for camping.”

Orlando wanted to point out that both he and Viggo were much older than Henry and therefore should by rights be at home doing something constructive, like having sex or having sex but no, he didn’t and they weren’t. The only thing to do in this situation was glaringly obvious.

“Stop pouting.”

Orli made a face at his reflection in the side view mirror and slouched further down in his seat. “I’m not pouting,” he said, clipped English accent hopefully as cutting as his mother’s could be.

“You look like you’re ten and you’re acting even younger.”

Christ Orli hated that calm voice of reason. “Whatever.” He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the silence because Viggo hated that response. Hated it more than finding a deep nick on that goddamned sword from Lord of the Rings. Hell hath no fury like a Viggo with a nicked sword. And that had two completely different meanings depending on which side of the pond you were from. Orli considered that for a moment.

The Brit figured they’d gone maybe two miles before the silence was making him crazy and he sighed loudly and shifted with exaggerated movement and finally reached over to pat Viggo’s knee. “I’d rather be fucking,” he said, in no way trying to convey he was sorry because he really wasn’t, but he didn’t like it when Viggo was mad.

“We’ve fucked in a sleeping bag before,” Viggo reminded him. Orli turned sideways in his seat and left his hand on his lover’s thigh. It was a bit of a reach but he didn’t mind so much when Viggo dropped one hand from the steering wheel and laced their fingers.

“Mm, but that was in New Zealand and I’m pretty sure I was high.” Actually he was very sure he was high and it was from Viggo’s stash.

“We’ll be up high enough that the thin air will make you light-headed.”

“Right, and thin air is so good for strenuous activity, I hear.” Orli snatched his hand back and sat up in his seat. He gave Viggo a good glare. “Why don’t we just go home and experiment with auto-asphyxiation instead? At least if I die we’ll be close to a hospital so they can revive me.” And really, that was going a bit overboard but Orli really, really didn’t want to go camping and dammit why hadn’t he used the ‘I’m too old for it’ bit like Henry?

Viggo pulled off his sunglasses and glanced over at the Brit, his blue eyes squinting against the brightness but still Orli could see he was hurt. Oh yeah, that was why. Sometimes being in love sucked as much as camping.

“If you didn’t want to come, why didn’t you just say so?” Fuck. Even tones to accompany the glasses sliding back on. White knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Orli wanted to rip out his own heart and give it to Viggo and hope he had enough time to ask for forgiveness before he died. “I thought you were joking before,” Viggo continued. “You weren’t.”

“No. No, love, I was. A bit. I mean…” Orli pushed back his hair, gripping tightly for a moment before letting go and touching Viggo’s shoulder. “We’ve been driving for three hours and I’m being an asshole. I’ve discovered a new phobia against bugs and it occurred to me that the woods are full of them and that’s where we’re going. But…but I want to spend time alone with you. If that means battling insects and worming my own fishing hook then, well, hey.”

“I brought bug spray.”

Orli felt the stupidest urge to cry and he blinked until he was sure he wouldn’t. Luckily, Viggo didn’t look over but he did relax, raising the shoulder where Orli’s hand rested and tilting his head to press the back of Orli’s hand against the older man’s cheek. “And plastic worms?” It was a ridiculous question and Viggo’s snort told him so but a guy could dream, right?