Fic: Safety in Silence

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

This is a word promt fic. "Safety in Silence" came from zee113a while ago and I just finished it last night. It was also inspired by a an article in which Orlando says he used to watch Viggo getting his make-up done and was fascinated by him. So I thought, in my world, OB's "fascination" actually means "was turned on" and went on with the fic. *snicker* But I still managed to keep it clean, though there's the possibility that it's slightly incoherent. *shrugs* Life's been slightly incoherent lately so... ^_^ And really, there's not so much silence in here...you know me, I love writing dialogue!

Title:  Safety in Silence
Author:  Ranmaru
Rating:  PG-13
Summary:  Viggo has a hard head and Orlando likes to watch. (Minds out of the gutter!!)
Disclaimer:  Don't know them, don't own anything they've been in, just playing.

Orlando was captivated. He was in awe. And it wasn’t lost on him that he was staring at Viggo Mortensen like a schoolgirl with a crush. But how could he act “normal” around the man? What was normal to a guy like Viggo? Was he even human? Orli sighed and rested his chin on his hand.

 

“Orli, you can’t move yet,” admonished the make-up artist of the day. He hadn’t recognized her upon coming in, but before he’d had the chance to ask her name he’d spotted Viggo and his brain shut down.

 

“Sorry,” he replied, tearing his eyes away from the quiet man sitting across from him, also having his make-up done, just for a moment to give an apologetic smile to the woman working on him. She just rolled her eyes and began mixing the glue for his wig.

 

When he looked back, Viggo was watching him, light-blue eyes half-closed and intense and Orli felt his face getting warm. He wasn’t embarrassed really, it wasn’t the first time Viggo had caught him staring, but he couldn’t help blushing like a beacon any more than he could help the staring. It was some kind of magnetic thing, maybe Viggo had too much iron in his blood or something.

 

Orli expected Viggo to turn away after a few seconds, he usually did but this time their eyes remained locked on each other and of all things, Orlando Bloom was getting hard, right there in his make-up chair, a short time before he was due on set. Hard and fucking all out horny and it was over Viggo, the man almost twice his age and definitely so far above him on any scale Orli was almost ashamed of it.

 

“Close your eyes, love. Don’t want to get any of this muck in your pretty brown eyes.” The make-up woman tapped him on the nose and Orli blinked, the moment broken and automatically did as he was told. He found himself pretty much doing anything anyone on-set told him to do. It made fitting in amazingly easier than he’d anticipated.

 

Except…with his eyes closed he couldn’t see Viggo but he could feel that Viggo was still watching him. And he was still hard.

 

And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember his lines.

 

He was doomed.

 

*

 

The first time it happened, he saw a white light and had a headache and a bruise on his forehead for days. No one was quite sure why it had started happening, but it was happening more and more often and Orli was convinced that Viggo was some kind of brilliant yet eccentric sadist because why else would you headbutt people for fun if you were normal? There was that word again. Orli rubbed his abused forehead and rethought his earlier thought… or something.

 

Viggo wasn’t ‘brilliant but eccentric’, he was brilliantly insane, and also a sadist. Masochist. Could you be a sadist and a masochist at the same time?

 

Fuck his head hurt.

 

“There’s safety in silence,” Elijah said softly as he joined Orli in his hiding spot behind a very large and heavily leaved potted plant. Was leaved a word? Orli whimpered. Elijah set a pint of beer in front of the Brit and Orli sighed happily.

 

“You’re the best, man.” Orli drained half of it because maybe if he got drunk, he’d forget his headache. “Safety in silence?” he asked, after he caught his breath and belched.

 

“You announce your presence,” the American said shaking his head like Orli had been doing something ridiculously stupid. Maybe he had.

 

“So?” Orli rubbed at a scratch in the wooden table.

 

“So…it flips that switch in him.”

 

“That switch?” Orli cocked his head to the side, the room began to spin a little and he grabbed on to the edge of his chair.

 

“The madness switch. You haven’t watched it happen?” Elijah grinned. “I mean, you’re always looking at him.” He reached over and pushed Orli’s shoulder until the Brit was sitting upright instead of leaning. “He has a hard head, huh?”

 

“The first time? It was Salah, and he was afraid of hurting me, I think. I mean, I still thought I was dead for a bit there, but…” Orlando pressed the heels of his hands into his temples. “Viggo isn’t human.”

 

“He’s mad. Didn’t I just tell you?” Elijah blinked those big, captivating eyes slowly then looked across the room to where Orli knew Viggo was playing pool with Sean Bean. He was always with Sean Bean. Damned northerner.

 

“The madness switch, yeah.”

 

“The light in his eyes, I swear I see it and my blood runs cold. I feel like warning people but I never know who he’s going to pick on.”

 

“He wasn’t picking on me, he was just happy to see me,” Orli insisted. He didn’t add that he’d had one perfect moment when he’d thought Viggo was going to kiss him right there in the doorway of the pub, but then…WHAM and Orlando’s memory got a little fuzzy for a few minutes.

 

“Of course he was happy to see you,” muttered the teenager. “He’s always happy to see you, didn’t you notice that?”

 

“I’m obviously missing a hell of a lot of clues,” Orli grumbled before draining the rest of his beer. He burped, sighed, burped again then said to his friend, “Next time, I’m coming in through the back door.”

 

“I’m telling you, it saves on aspirin.”

 

*

 

The only thing left for him to do, Orli decided a few mornings later as he watched Viggo slowly transform into Aragorn, sitting still and with his eyes closed in the make-up chair, was to start drooling. He had the blush down to a science, sweaty palms at random, and a heartbeat that no man nor beast could ever find a rhythm to it was pounding so crazily. So if he drooled, it would be the last piece in the crushing on Viggo puzzle of his life. The Brit threw in a sigh.

 

He wasn’t due on set that day but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from creeping into the make-up trailer to stare at Viggo. It was like an addiction. As if he’d go into withdrawals if he couldn’t soak in Viggo for just a few minutes each day. It hadn’t always been like that, Orli remembered. He’d gone years without feeling as though he was missing something very important if he wasn’t with Viggo right now. He’d woken up for twenty-two years without immediately realizing he was sleeping only a bunk away from Viggo, and without dreading the time when they were allowed to find apartments and houses and he’d no longer fall asleep to the sound of Viggo’s snoring.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a familiar voice said softly and Orli came back to himself. He was alone now with Viggo-Aragorn and the man was watching him, hands linked over his stomach and slouched in the chair. He looked the definition of an anachronism, his tunic and soft leather trousers wrinkled from a hard journey, his face shadowed with stubble and hair mussed yet he was surrounded by the trappings of the twentieth century. His eyes were clear, questioning, and Orli didn’t know what to say.

 

“Will you be at the pub tonight?” Viggo asked as he gracefully rose from his chair. Orli nodded and sat up a little straighter, his whole body tensing as Viggo got closer. “Good, I’ll see you there.” The older man scrubbed a hand over the Brit’s head as he passed making Orli give an involuntary laugh and then he was alone.

 

Orli stood up and stretched then realized if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get headbutted tonight. His shoulders slumped.

 

*

 

“There’s safety in silence,” Elijah had said and Orli kept repeating it to himself as he walked towards the pub entrance. He stopped just outside of the door and geared himself for the upcoming mission: Enter Pub – Have Drink – Talk to Viggo – Leave without Headache or Bruising.

 

He felt like James Bond as he snuck inside, keeping to the shadows and back to the wall. No one seemed to notice him (or his odd behavior) and despite the complete absurdity of the situation, he didn’t relax until he was sitting at the bar and ordering a pint.

 

He was pulling his warm glass towards him when he felt the presence of someone close and then a familiar voice said, “Orlando!”

 

And Orli…flinched.

 

He couldn’t help it, and then he realized he’d also closed his eyes and thrown his hands out as if to ward off an attack. He opened one eye. Viggo was looking at him in confusion and concern.

 

“Orli?”

 

The Brit groaned and rubbed his temples. “Viggo, I…uh…”

 

“Have a headache?” A gentle hand on his shoulder made Orli feel even worse.

 

“No it’s…” He got caught in Viggo’s pale blue eyes and forgot what he was going to say.

 

“You acted like I was going to hit you.” Viggo let his hand slide from Orlando’s shoulder and sat on the barstool beside him.

 

“Your head…” Orli began but then wasn’t sure how to finish.

 

“My head?” Viggo ran a hand through his short hair and bit the inside of his lip. Then he blinked and started to laugh. “Christ, why didn’t you say something?”

 

Glad that his friend understood, he just shrugged. “I’m usually seeing stars at the time,” he said wryly.

 

“Hm.” Viggo picked up Orli’s glass and drained it by half before setting it back on the bar. “Let’s go.”

 

The Brit stared in astonishment at his beer. “You…you…” He picked up the glass and held it protectively against his chest. “You do not drink a man’s beer!”

 

“You’re not a man,” Viggo scoffed as he stood up.

 

“What?!”

 

Viggo leaned close. “You’re an elf.” He grinned and stepped back.

 

Orli sighed and finished off the beer. “You have problems,” he told his friend. He pushed the empty glass towards the bartender who was approaching. “Where are we going?” he asked as he followed Viggo.

 

The Dane didn’t answer until they were outside. “Back to the trailer.”

 

“Why?”

 

Viggo stopped and cupped Orli’s cheek. “I have to apologize for the…headbutting.” He smirked.

 

Orlando’s mind was getting fuzzy. “And…um…you can’t do that here?”

 

“No.”

 

Orli transferred his gaze to Viggo’s ear to get his mind to clear a bit. God the man smelled good. “Why not?”

 

“Let’s go.” Viggo turned and walked away, leaving Orli to follow.

 

“Why do I always do what you tell me to?” the Brit wondered a loud as he caught up to the older man.

 

“I have a way with elves.”

 

Orli just rolled his eyes.

 

*

 

Somehow the trailer seemed smaller than it had earlier when he’d left it. Viggo stood in front of the stove heating up a kettle of water. He was humming something softly, hands deftly taking down ceramic mugs and finding the silverwear. Orli, Viggo and Bean didn’t have much in the way of cookware and cutlery, and besides the mugs, there were only three glasses and three bowls. The Hobbits’ trailer was stocked to the brim and Orli had no doubts that should they wish it, the four could easily entertain half of the cast and crew as long as the party was held outside. He wondered if Sir Ian would host but then Viggo half-turned and gave the younger man a look and Orli forgot what he was thinking about.

 

“Chamomile tea,” Viggo murmured. “Good for relaxing.”

 

Orli made a face. “I’d rather gnaw on a twig,” he told his friend. “If this is your apology…”

 

Viggo chuckled. “No, just thought I’d set a mood.”

 

“A mood?” Orli crossed his arms and leaned against the locked door. “What sort of mood?”

 

“Calm. Contented.” Viggo poured hot water into one mug but hesitated over the second. His eyes flickered in question and Orli waved his hand.

 

“Oh go on. Get me in the mood.” He sucked in a breath when his words caught up with his brain and he heard Viggo laugh softly.

 

“If you wish.” He set down the kettle and gestured to the couch. “Sit. It will take the tea a few minutes to steep.”

 

Orli waited until Viggo had taken a place on the couch then sat on the other end. He stared at the cushion of space between them. “This is weird.”

 

“How so?”

 

“All I wanted was a beer and no headache.” Orli picked at a loose thread.

 

“And now?”

 

“I think…” Orlando took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “I think now I just want you to kiss me.”

 

“No beer?”

 

Orli looked up to see Viggo smiling. “No beer. Although,” he drawled as he slid closer to the other man. “I am still waiting for my apology.”

 

“Hm.” Viggo gently framed Orlando’s face with his hands, fingers tickling the tops of the Brit’s ears. “Let the apology commence.”

 

Orli closed his eyes and waited for the kiss…except he didn’t get a kiss. Instead, he was given the most gentlest of headbutts. He opened his eyes and glared at his friend. “What the fu-“

 

Then he was kissed.

 

 

THE END

Comments

[zee113.livejournal.com]

I took my time to think about what to write here (I felt obligated since I was mentioned as prompt) but nothing came to my flu-affected mind.

Anyway, I really loved this, because it's crazy like Viggo and sweet like Orlando :) And this is lame but all I'm capable of... :)

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

Aw, I hope you're feeling better soon! *sends healthy thoughts your way*