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rugbytackleTITLE: The Orange Grove (2/32): Welcome
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
When Sean finally set foot in Irákleio Airport it was almost noon. It was a bright day, the sky so blue it hurt the eyes. He took a deep breath, shouldering the small bag he was carrying, grateful that he'd already shipped over his baggage and wouldn't have to stay in here a second more just to collect his stuff.
He had initially planned to take his time with this journey, reaching Athens and taking the boat from there; but then Abigail had called, saying Evie had caught the chicken pox and wanted daddy, and there was no way he could leave like that, without first seeing her. The thought of his little one, her eyes skipping over the stuffed toy he'd bought for her and lighting just on him, feverish but smiling her huge, happy smile while they cuddled on her bed, had been worth every minute passed on the plane.
Actually, he was dreading the rest of the journey much more: the flight hadn't been that awful, but they'd warned him about how bad the roads to Mátala were. No one had said it straight off, but a helicopter ride loomed large in Sean's mind, making him uneasy.
Oh, bugger that, he thought. It was just like Rings. He could do it -- he just had to keep in mind that an old friend would be there when he landed. That would help: Viggo had been the one who could always make him... well, if not actually smile, at least feel better about it afterwards.
He really hoped things would still be the same between them, though he couldn't be sure: it'd been several months since he'd actually talked to Viggo, and close to a year since they'd last seen each other. Sean was determined not to assume they still had the closeness they'd once had. And if Viggo kept his distance, he wouldn't take offence -- with that crazy bugger, you could never be sure.
He was certain, though, that Viggo must have played a part in the call with which he'd been offered to replace Christopher Lambert in the project; so perhaps Viggo was as keen to see him again as he was, and wouldn't that be grand? Crete was a little Eden, much like New Zealand had been. And they had had fun in New Zealand, Viggo and him.
He just had to survive the bloody chopper.
"Kalosirthate stin Kriti, kirie*," someone said from somewhere on Sean's left, and even in the noisy Arrivals section of the little airport the voice sounded clear and familiar, though the tone was soft and the accent was...
"Murdering the native tongue already, are you?" Sean said stopping in his tracks, without even turning his head toward the voice. Because he just knew. Because he could see the broad, sardonic smile even without needing to look; but when he finally did, and saw Viggo standing there -- longish dark blond hair, light cotton trousers and a shirt as blue and bright as the summer sky outside -- it was as if he could feel the last year curl up on itself and vanish into a handful of days.
"Nah," Viggo drawled in his normal voice, walking up to him, smiling just as Sean had known he would. "Not playing the bad boy in this one." Viggo stopped a pace away from him, looking him up and down. "Try driver."
"Dri..." Sean trailed off. He was suddenly remembering the time when Viggo had come to visit him while he was doing Macbeth in the West End: one night Viggo had just come in, dangled Sean's car keys in front of him and told him to forget the fans and the rest of the cast, he was going to take Sean home right away. Sean still didn't know how Viggo had done it, how he'd understood that Sean had been about to flip because of sheer pressure, that day, and been hiding in the dressing rooms just to stall. Right then, he'd felt much like Macbeth had when the Weird Sisters called him 'King'.
And so he was feeling now. After that, forgetting everything else and taking his mate in a tight embrace was suddenly the most natural thing in the world.
"Fuck, but I'm glad to see you," he laughed, clapping Viggo on the back, the jingle of the car keys in Viggo's hand when he did that like music to his ears.
"I see." Viggo was still smiling when Sean released him, but that didn't last for long. Now that Sean looked closer, he looked a bit strange. Worried, perhaps: Sean wasn't sure. Problems with the film, already? A little of Sean's previous uneasiness came back, but before he could say anything Viggo was tugging the travel bag off his shoulder and over his own.
"Car's this way, kirie," Viggo announced with another -- smaller -- smile, and guided him out of the airport into the brilliant Greek morning.
TBC
*Kalosirthate stin Kriti, kirie = Welcome to Crete, sir
AUTHOR: Cinzia and Gloria
Full headers here
When Sean finally set foot in Irákleio Airport it was almost noon. It was a bright day, the sky so blue it hurt the eyes. He took a deep breath, shouldering the small bag he was carrying, grateful that he'd already shipped over his baggage and wouldn't have to stay in here a second more just to collect his stuff.
He had initially planned to take his time with this journey, reaching Athens and taking the boat from there; but then Abigail had called, saying Evie had caught the chicken pox and wanted daddy, and there was no way he could leave like that, without first seeing her. The thought of his little one, her eyes skipping over the stuffed toy he'd bought for her and lighting just on him, feverish but smiling her huge, happy smile while they cuddled on her bed, had been worth every minute passed on the plane.
Actually, he was dreading the rest of the journey much more: the flight hadn't been that awful, but they'd warned him about how bad the roads to Mátala were. No one had said it straight off, but a helicopter ride loomed large in Sean's mind, making him uneasy.
Oh, bugger that, he thought. It was just like Rings. He could do it -- he just had to keep in mind that an old friend would be there when he landed. That would help: Viggo had been the one who could always make him... well, if not actually smile, at least feel better about it afterwards.
He really hoped things would still be the same between them, though he couldn't be sure: it'd been several months since he'd actually talked to Viggo, and close to a year since they'd last seen each other. Sean was determined not to assume they still had the closeness they'd once had. And if Viggo kept his distance, he wouldn't take offence -- with that crazy bugger, you could never be sure.
He was certain, though, that Viggo must have played a part in the call with which he'd been offered to replace Christopher Lambert in the project; so perhaps Viggo was as keen to see him again as he was, and wouldn't that be grand? Crete was a little Eden, much like New Zealand had been. And they had had fun in New Zealand, Viggo and him.
He just had to survive the bloody chopper.
"Kalosirthate stin Kriti, kirie*," someone said from somewhere on Sean's left, and even in the noisy Arrivals section of the little airport the voice sounded clear and familiar, though the tone was soft and the accent was...
"Murdering the native tongue already, are you?" Sean said stopping in his tracks, without even turning his head toward the voice. Because he just knew. Because he could see the broad, sardonic smile even without needing to look; but when he finally did, and saw Viggo standing there -- longish dark blond hair, light cotton trousers and a shirt as blue and bright as the summer sky outside -- it was as if he could feel the last year curl up on itself and vanish into a handful of days.
"Nah," Viggo drawled in his normal voice, walking up to him, smiling just as Sean had known he would. "Not playing the bad boy in this one." Viggo stopped a pace away from him, looking him up and down. "Try driver."
"Dri..." Sean trailed off. He was suddenly remembering the time when Viggo had come to visit him while he was doing Macbeth in the West End: one night Viggo had just come in, dangled Sean's car keys in front of him and told him to forget the fans and the rest of the cast, he was going to take Sean home right away. Sean still didn't know how Viggo had done it, how he'd understood that Sean had been about to flip because of sheer pressure, that day, and been hiding in the dressing rooms just to stall. Right then, he'd felt much like Macbeth had when the Weird Sisters called him 'King'.
And so he was feeling now. After that, forgetting everything else and taking his mate in a tight embrace was suddenly the most natural thing in the world.
"Fuck, but I'm glad to see you," he laughed, clapping Viggo on the back, the jingle of the car keys in Viggo's hand when he did that like music to his ears.
"I see." Viggo was still smiling when Sean released him, but that didn't last for long. Now that Sean looked closer, he looked a bit strange. Worried, perhaps: Sean wasn't sure. Problems with the film, already? A little of Sean's previous uneasiness came back, but before he could say anything Viggo was tugging the travel bag off his shoulder and over his own.
"Car's this way, kirie," Viggo announced with another -- smaller -- smile, and guided him out of the airport into the brilliant Greek morning.
TBC
*Kalosirthate stin Kriti, kirie = Welcome to Crete, sir
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