FIC: Ordinary World

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

Greetings! Some of you are already familiar with this previously untitled fic. I was writing it for NaNoWriMo last year, got caught up in RL and general laziness, and have been working on it ever since in a private journal. Now its here, where it belongs!

It's an AU where LOTR never happened and Orlando got his big break with "Pirates of the Caribbean." Viggo is an artist, though I haven't decided if he's ever tried his hand at acting. Basically, it's about Orlando's search for himself. He's tired of fame and goes home in the hopes that he'll find whatever it is he's looking for there...but is disappointed. I've messed with timelines and facts, so please, read with an open mind.

Much of this fic is un-beta'd, though lenaloveand gattodorohave been invaluable resources for facts and read-thrus to make sure I'm not totally incoherent. I have made it a habit of not going back to re-read the previous bits, so if you catch something that's inconsistent please let me know.

Title: Ordinary World
Author: ranmaru
Rating: PG-13 (for now, NC-17 later)
Summary: You can never go back and expect things haven't changed.
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, don't know much about 'em, don't sue!
Previous Chapters
Chapter One: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Chapter Two: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
Chapter Three: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Chapter Four: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

It was closing on three in the afternoon when Orlando left his hotel room. It didn't really hit the actor as to why he was fairly bouncing as he exited the hotel through the large, glass doors on his way to the coffee shop to meet Mr. Holm, until the American artist was within sight and Orli's stomach did that odd flip-flop thing. Yes, he was excited to hear what Mr. Holm had to say, to hear if there was a part in a play that he'd be perfect for, or he'd make himself perfect for. And yes, he'd had a pretty good night, despite motherly interruptions and the phone interview which went surprisingly well. He'd taken a shower afterwards, a long, leisurely shower complete with steaming water, slick wash gel and a masturbatory scene worthy of an Oscar. If they gave awards for that kind of thing outside of the porn industry.
 
He'd fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and he hadn't even dreamed, well, that he could remember. He'd thought he might, considering the American's starring role in the shower scene, but no, nothing. Which was just as well since he wasn't going to think about men in his sexual fantasies until he had to. The whole confusing mess regarding homosexuality was not going to bother him today. He'd gotten through years without it being a relevant topic of either thought or conversation, it shouldn't be hard now. If he'd gotten through the morning alone with only a random visit by room service and the television to keep his mind occupied, he could certainly keep his thoughts safe over coffee with Mr. Holm this afternoon.

As Orli walked closer, he could see that the artist was wearing worn jeans again and a long-sleeved button-up in a plaid pattern, the sleeves turned up to reveal his forearms, arms crossed over his chest. He was staring intently at the painting in front of him and Orli stood beside him, feeling a little shaky at their proximity, staring as well at the cloud-building portrait for a good minute before the artist spoke.
 
"Orange."
 
Orlando let that word spin about his brain for a second, trying to figure out if maybe he'd missed something. Were there oranges in the painting? No. Was the man offering fruit? Orli peeked to the side, but the American hadn't moved. Deciding it was just some eccentric thing, (and weren't most artists eccentric anyways?) he hummed in agreement and hoped nothing else was required of him.
 
"The one color I'm out of." This statement was followed by a slightly annoyed sigh and Orli looked down at the tackle box to see an orange-splattered tube, the body pressed flat. It made him think of toothpaste. Did they make orange-flavoured toothpaste?
 
"Bad luck," he told the American who nodded, his gaze pointed down as well. So the man wanted to add orange to the painting. Why, Orli didn't know, but if that was what the artist wanted...
 
Orlando reached into his back pocket for his wallet, took out a ten pound note and crouched down. He picked up the orange tube, laid own the note, then placed the tube over it. "For the orange," he said and stood, one hand on the small of his back. A slight twinge but nothing serious. He hadn't stretched more than the bare minimum this morning but had felt a little more limber than usual, another reason his mood was so good. He smiled brightly at the American, giggled inside at the frown of confusion on the older man's face, then nimbly stepped around him to hurry to the coffee shop before the man could utter a word.
 
He didn't dwell on the fact that there was a pleasant tingle in his groin and how his jeans seemed just a little too tight now in the crotch as he entered the coffee shop. There were more people inside than there had been the day before, and Orli felt his heart pounding a little harder as his eyes scanned the room, not finding the professor among the crowd. He hadn't really thought about how he'd be allowing himself to be recognized if he met Mr. Holm in public, while sitting stationary for however long it took. Walking, head down, through town was one thing but this...
 
He was about to turn around and leave, maybe see if he could catch the teacher on his way to the shop, when a man a few inches shorter than Orli approached him, a cocky grin on his face. He had dark blond hair that lightened at the tips, cut short with jagged bangs just touching the tops of his eyebrows. Dark but short beard and mustache made him look a bit scruffy but his blue eyes twinkled as if he was laughing inside. He wore a stained white apron over jeans and a grey t-shirt, marking him as an employee of the shop. Orli thought he was in his mid-twenties, not much older than Orli himself.
 
"Your party is in the backroom, sir," the shop keep murmured. "Follow me."
 
Orli hesitated only a second before trailing behind the shorter man to the back of the shop and through a door to the side of the counter. It was obviously a break room for the employees, but it was nicely decorated with a comfortable-looking red sofa, a scratched-up coffee table and a lounge chair. There was a desk piled high with paperwork in one corner, and a long counter almost took up one wall, a refrigerator and a couple of stools underneath. Orli wondered exactly how many people were employed at the shop. There'd only been two people at the order counter when he'd come in yesterday.
 
Mr. Holm was seated on the couch and beside him was someone Orli hadn't seen since graduating from Guildhall, and the sight of his friend made him smile so hard his face hurt.
 
"Billy!"
 
Billy Boyd laughed as he stood up and hugged his famous friend, the two thumping each other on the back and talking over each other in greeting. Orli ruffed Billy's short, reddish-blonde hair remarking, "You're going bald, mate!"
 
"I thinned it out for the summer heat," Billy retorted, smacking Orli's hand away, but still grinning. He gestured to the lounge chair and Orli sat down, smiling at Mr. Holm.
 
"No wonder you brought him up," he said without thinking, then felt his face get red as he remember what had been said.
 
Mr. Holm merely smiled. "Mr. Boyd's name has been peppering my conversations of late," he admitted, giving the man beside him a look. "Hard not to, considering he's pestering me more often than not. Not unlike a human gnat."
 
"I like to think of myself as enthusiastic about my current endeavors." Billy sniffed in mock offence.
 
"What endeavor is that?" Orli asked as the door opened to his left. He looked over to see the man who had brought him to the backroom come in carrying a tray with three mugs.
 
"One that, should you lend a hand, will earn you free coffee for life from me," the shop keep said as he held the tray close to Orli. The actor picked the green mug and sniffed the dark, steaming liquid before taking a cautious sip. He hissed as his lips stung but the flavour was full, rich and just sweet enough to make him utter a noise of enjoyment.
 
"Consider my hand leant."
 
Billy chuckled as he set the yellow mug he'd chosen on the coffee table. Mr. Holm blew a puff of air over the top of his coffee before sipping a bit noisily. The shop keep perched on the arm of the couch beside Billy, the tray tucked under one arm.
 
"Dommie is the Coffee King," Billy said, affectionately patting the other man's knee. "But maybe you'd like to hear my proposition first?"
 
"Bills, I can tell you right now, coffee bribe or no, I'd say yes to whatever it is. We're mates, yeah?"
 
"Even if I'm going to try to cash in on your fame?" Billy asked softly.
 
"Rather it be for a good cause, it's not doing much for me at the moment. Now, tell me what's up."
 
"I've written a play," Billy began, only to be interrupted by "Dommie" who said, "A bloody brilliant play." The Scot grinned, then his face took on a look of guilt. "Ah, maybe I should introduce you."
 
"Was wondering when you'd get around to that," Mr. Holm muttered before taking another noisy sip.
 
Billy snorted in the teacher's direction then turned to Orli. "This is my partner Dominic Monaghan."
 
"Partner?" Orli asked, standing to meet Dominic halfway to shake his hand.
 
"I prefer 'lover' but he's caught on to that political correctness that's mucking up the world," Dominic said as he sat back down.
 
Orli dropped a little harder than intended into his chair. "Lover?"
 
Billy frowned. "Is that a problem?"
 
Orli shook his head, but inside he felt his stomach twisting nervously. "No, no of course not. I just... I didn't think..."
 
"You thought he was straight?" Dominic said, his voice dripping with disbelief. For that, he got a smack to his leg. He hissed and winced, giving Billy a wounded look the Scot ignored.
 
"Idiot.” Billy leveled a look at Orlando that was calm and a little sad. "A lot has happened since school."
 
Orlando nodded and picked up his mug, needing something to occupy his hands, to focus on. "Tell me about the play," he said softly, needing to change the subject before he began to dwell on something that had happened too long ago to still be an issue.
 
"I hope you have a few hours," Mr. Holm told him. "And you have enough coffee," he added, looking at Dominic who grinned.
 
"Actually, I'd better go before my faithful minion comes in to drag me out by my ear. I'll bring something back later."
 
"A scone?" Orli asked, sitting a little straighter. The one he'd had at breakfast had been horrible.
 
"I'll set one aside," Dominic promised. He ran a gentle hand over Billy's head then exited the room, the door clicking closed behind him.
 
Billy shifted forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. He was grinning, eyes almost squinted closed, hands clasped tightly together. "I got the idea from Dommie," he revealed. "Life in a coffee shop."
 
"That's the name?"
 
"Naw, just the general idea. I call it "Beans to Grind."
 
Orlando blinked. "Um, okay."
 
"My sentiments exactly," said Mr. Holm. "Sounds like something for a horror film."
 
"Fine, consider it a working title," Billy grumbled. He huffed. "I'm so misunderstood."
 
Orlando snickered. "Just get on with it."
 
Billy began to tell him about a story of a friendly shop keep and the odd customers he served. Two of those customers become friends with the shop keep, and one of those his lover. At this point, Billy paused. "The shop keep is a man, the friends a man and a woman, both in love with him. He chooses the man, and the woman is furious."
 
Orli nodded. "And she gets revenge."
 
"It's not all that original, but I think I can put a new spin on it." Billy slapped his knees. "I need cash Orli, and I'm okay with finding investors, but the fewer the better, you know?" Orlando nodded and Billy continued. "And I'm still looking for someone to play the shop keeps' lover. I'll, of course, be playing the lead."
 
"Of course," Orli whispered as he understood which part Billy was going to offer him.
 
"Um, I also need to find actors for the rest of the cast, a director, set people..." Billy laughed self-consciously. "It's really at the beginning stages now."
 
"But a wonderfully written play," Mr. Holm stated. "An excellent debut, if you can find actors worthy of the script."
 
"How long do you want it to run?" Asked Orlando, interested despite his fears.
 
"I'm hoping two months, if its received well." Billy sat back and pulled a leg up, foot flat on the cushion, one hand on his ankle. "If I can get into the Barbican..." Billy sighed. "Honestly, if Dommie offered to build a stage I'd be willing to have it here, as long as I can see it done. I can see it, you know, faceless actors moving on stage, faceless crowd clapping." He shrugged. "I'd like for you to play my lover but..." He stared at his knee. "I'd understand if you'd rather just play a customer."
 
Orlando didn't say anything for a moment but he felt Mr. Holm's gaze on him. He had to wonder if this was Fate, somehow started back in school when he'd tried to kiss Billy. Reawakened by the reporter's insinuations of a relationship with Johnny and fed by the crazy feelings he had when he thought about the American street artist. I'm not gay, its just the character I play, he thought and almost laughed out loud. What had he been doing with Kate if he could now understand that it wasn't just the female form he was attracted to, because if he was truly honest with himself, he knew why his stomach flip-flopped when he saw the American, why he was so happy as he left the hotel. He was attracted to the man, just as he had been to Billy. Just as he was to Johnny, in a purely aesthetic way because he truly did think of the man as his brother.
 
And now, amidst his vacation from the business that made him feel as though he was losing himself to the glamour of fame and the exhaustion of keeping his fans and management happy, he was being offered a role that was probably the most honest as any he'd done before. All he needed now was to realize he had overly-friendly feelings for Colin Stone and his pre-mid-life crisis would be complete.
 
"You look pale Orlando," MR. Holm said, concerned.
 
"I'll be your lover," Orli blurted out then felt his face heat up. "I-I mean-"
 
"I know," Billy said with a grin.
 
"And you can have my damned money. I just need enough to get a flat here, someplace close."
 
"I'll look at the student boards on campus," Mr. Holm told him.
 
"And Dom has a board he lets people use, there might be something there."
 
"No 'Roommates Needed'," Orli said. "Studio, one bedroom, that's fine." He smiled at Billy, though knew it was a little shaky. "Are you busy tomorrow?"
 
"I get off work at six."
 
"I'm at the Threadneedles, room 217. I'll order room service."
 
"Escargot and caviar?"
 
"Mineral water and salt crackers if you're not careful."
 
Mr. Holm cleared his throat. "Where's that boyfriend of yours Mr. Boyd? I'm in need of my pre-dinner tea."
 
As if he'd had his ear to the door, Dominic opened the door, tray balanced on one hand. "Sorry for the wait my good sirs." He passed placed a plate of warm scones on the coffee table, the smell making Orli's mouth water, and beside that a pot of tea and two cups. To Billy, he handed a bottle of water, the outside wet with condensation. "Enjoy. And feel free to leave a tip." With a wink, he disappeared, Billy looking after him with a fond smile.
 
"Keep that one," Mr. Holm advised. "Much better than that young one you had. Kept falling asleep the minute he sat down."
 
"Maybe he had that condition," Orli said. "Narcolepsy."
 
"Elijah wasn't narcoleptic," Billy growled, glaring at his former teacher. Orli realized this was part of an old argument between the two of them that he'd only added to. "Every time you saw him he was still jet-lagged!"
 
"Stop making excuses for him," Mr. Holm grumbled as he made his tea.
 
"Where was he flying from?" asked Orlando. He bit into a scone and almost moaned it was so good. Almost as good as his mother's.
 
"America. He's an actor. Elijah Wood?" Billy twisted the cap off his water.
 
Orli sucked in a breath and choked on crumbs. Billy held out his water and Orlando gratefully drank until he was under control. "Fuck sake Bills," he wheezed. "Elijah Wood?"
 
Billy looked at his half empty bottle with a frown and shrugged. "Didn't last long. He was just experimenting. He's married now. Comes to visit me and Dommie sometimes."
 
Orlando just stared at his friend. "Plan on spending the night tomorrow," he told him. "Obviously we have a lot more than I thought to catch up on."
 
"Dom won't like that."
 
"He can come too."