FIC: Home Depot (SB/VM) {NC-17} [1/2]
Nov. 19th, 2003 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helens78 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Home Depot (1/2)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
atanvarne_lj and helens78
Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bohemian!Viggo meets Neatnik!Sean.
Disclaimer: This never happened. All fiction.
What happens when you take Viggo to Home Depot? The mind boggles.atanvarne_lj, thanks so much for writing this with me! *squee*
Sean shakes his head at the wall. He's been scrubbing at the notes for far too long this time, and it doesn't help that Viggo has outlawed all non-organic, non-biodegradable cleaners from the house. If Sean had some nice toxic chemicals to work with, he might be able to get the last set of notes off the wall, but he doesn't think it's going to work this time.
He tosses the rag aside and plants his hands on his hips. Nothing for it; the wall's going to need repainting. He trots through the house until he tracks down Viggo, and then crouches down next to him. This next -- this is probably a terrible idea, because the moment the invitation's issued, he can't take it back. He's signing away hours of his life here.
But damn if Viggo isn't adorable in hardware stores. Sean grins. "I'm thinking we need some paint for the kitchen. Wall paint," he clarifies, in case Viggo gets the idea that tempera would do. "Going off to Home Depot. Want to join me?"
Viggo continues to write for a moment longer, then looks at the words scrawled in his journal. '...callously disregard the will of paint at Home Depot.' He blinks owlishly at the sentence, certain that was not what he meant to say, but it is clear that the train of thought has left the station without him. Again.
The word 'kitchen' reminds Viggo he has not eaten for hours, so consumed with the constant revelations streaming from the White House about the war in Iraq that such mundane thoughts about small details like lunch have escaped his notice.
"Hold that thought," Viggo murmurs, touching Sean's face lightly before he dashes into the kitchen. He pulls open the refrigerator door and grabs a slice of 'pizza;' called that simply because it's open faced and wedge shaped. This pizza was made with a stone ground wheat flour crust, a blanc-mange sauce that Viggo seasoned with a dozen different herbs grabbed at random from the spice rack, and topped with mushrooms, carrots, corn, fresh spinach leaves, tofu crumbles and nutmeg, which Viggo explained to Sean in all seriousness enhances the taste of the tofu.
While chewing, he looks at the wall for the quote about Reagan and Noriega that he scrawled somewhere near the stove about a month ago. It's gone as are all the rest of his notes. Vanished. Except for the remains of a few he had written in indelible ink, now appearing like ghosts trying to break through the not-quite-white of the kitchen wall, they might never have existed at all.
"Sean!" he bellows. "Where the hell are my notes?"
"Relax," Sean mutters. He holds up a small transparent box full of note cards, each of which has a note from the wall written down in meticulous, ordered fashion. Where there were dates and times, Sean transcribed those and placed them in order; where there weren't, Sean alphabetized by the first word in the note. He was even careful to reproduce the physical location of words on the notes; haphazard notes are scribbled down haphazardly onto note cards, while the piece that read
dreams
fashion in
August
TEMPERAMENT
is recreated in all its odd, unpredictable glory.
"They're all here," Sean adds. "You were running out of space."
Viggo beams, but it's unclear whether he is smiling at Sean or the box in his hand. No matter. His thoughts are safe. He starts to flip through the cards, intent on finding the quote about Panama, but remembers suddenly that Sean had asked him a question. Kitchen, paint, Home Depot. Shopping?
"Tell me if I am remembering this correctly. Did you ask me if I wanted to go to Home Depot with you?" Viggo is instantly suspicious. He and Sean have worked out a truce regarding short trips to the grocery, the video store and two independent bookstores, but Sean almost always balks at the thought of Viggo loose in a store with more than eight aisles. He moves close to Sean, so close that their breath mingles, and drapes his arms around Sean's neck. "Is there a reward in my future if I promise to be very, very good? Or should I promise to be very, very bad instead?"
"Don't push your luck too far," Sean warns, but the heat in his voice is all directed into the realm of the erotic. With Viggo's body pressed up against him, Sean is easily distracted, and the idea of devising some reward for Viggo for good behavior in a hardware store is almost as appealing as the idea of seeing what Viggo will do to make up for bad behavior. "And you'll be taking your chances either way," he grins.
Viggo laughs low in his throat. "I haven't run out of luck yet," he teases. "But I'm still a little unclear on whether I should plan to rein in my natural curiosity or whether I can explore," he murmurs against Sean's lips. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Viggo's eyes begin to take on a far away expression as he contemplates the wonders to be had in a place with as many things as a warehouse sized hardware store. He smiles into Sean's eyes. "Yeah, I'll come with you. Or after you, if you prefer," he adds wickedly, watching Sean with an air of expectation. If Sean's tongue flicks over his lips, as Viggo anticipates, the trip might have to be postponed. Viggo loves testing Sean's resolve; he can be incredibly single-minded at times, but he hasn't taken the time to evaluate Sean's mood, although the early signs are promising.
Ah, temptation. Sean wraps his arms around Viggo's waist and leans forward just a touch, brushing his nose against Viggo's once, twice, before letting his lips settle over Viggo's -- briefly.
"Paint," Sean breathes. "We'd best go now, or we won't get out of the house for hours." He grins. "Tell you what. Two hours from now I want to be in the kitchen with paint out on a tray and a roller in my hand. What we do in the meantime is up for discussion." Pitting Viggo's lust against his urge to tinker in Home Depot may be slightly on the cruel side, but Sean's learned that open-ended offers invariably lead to meanderings that take all day.
Viggo groans audibly, paint at that moment being the last thing on his mind. Damn, damn, damn, Viggo thinks, wondering how he's going to manage a trip to Home Depot in less than two hours. He could spend two hours selecting paint colours alone, much less wandering through any other part of the store.
Viggo is not without a cruel streak of his own. If he can lose Sean in the gardening section, he contemplates, that might buy him more time in some of the other, more intriguing areas of the store. He's certain that some of the manufacturers would go into cardiac arrest if they had any idea of the uses to which their products can be put, and Viggo has a moment of giddiness imagining the warning labels he'd write given half a chance.
"Do you have a colour family in mind, or are you going to require my input on every single paint chip they've got? They've got a lot of colours, Sean, and you're only giving me two hours." He frowns for a moment. "Is that two hours from now, or two hours in the store?" Minutes are ticking away and he is conscious of each and every one of them.
"Two hours from now," Sean clarifies. He trails a fingertip down the side of Viggo's cheek. "And we don't need to spend that much time looking at paint chips. We're looking for what we had before -- a plain satin white. Although..." He pauses, and his eyes lose focus for a moment. "Perhaps a high gloss would help with getting the notes washed off in the future..."
Viggo cups Sean's face and leans in for a kiss. "Sustenance," he whispers, then reluctantly pulls himself away from Sean and hurries off to find his shoes. He returns to the kitchen, reasonably presentable by his standards, and begins to look around for the keys to his truck. He is fairly certain that he left them on the counter nearest the refrigerator, but they are nowhere to be seen. He mentally retraces his steps--he came in through the garage, stopped to check the mail, came into the kitchen... He opened the pantry door, and there, next to the cans of stewed tomatoes, were his keys.
With a triumphant cry he snatches them off the shelf, relieved that he found them before Sean could lecture him about putting things where they belong, and shouts for Sean.
"C'mon. Time's a wasting, and you've made me a desperate man." He has already decided that the kitchen will NOT be white. Especially not high gloss white. The house borders on institutional as it is, what with Sean's mania for cleanliness. He's thinking a deep rust for the north wall, a forest green for the east wall and he'll let Sean have a pale yellow for the west wall, the one he uses most frequently for jotting down his thoughts and telephone messages.
His heart skips a beat when Sean walks into the room. It always does, no matter how many times in a day Viggo sees him, and he hopes this is a permanent condition. "How much time do we have left?" For someone as chronologically challenged as he is, time has suddenly become paramount.
Sean makes a show out of checking his watch, although if he had to guess, he'd say Viggo's been on this scavenger hunt for about ten minutes -- no, eight, according to his watch. "One hour, fifty-two minutes," Sean grins. "And speed at your own risk, because if we get pulled over, that'll take up more of time, won't it?" He does his usual pat-down to make sure he has everything he needs -- left front pocket, mobile phone; right front pocket, keys; left rear pocket, nothing, but it's part of the routine; right rear pocket, wallet.
He gives a slight nod to the garage door. "Shall we?" It takes twenty-three minutes to get to Home Depot on a good day; if traffic's bad, Sean will simply say the drive to and from doesn't count. Of course, he's not going to tell Viggo that -- that would just ensure they end up taking the scenic route.
Sean and Viggo get in the truck and Viggo turns on KFWB to listen for traffic updates. If the 405 is a mess, then he'll take surface streets. He gets on the freeway at Washington and, sure enough, traffic is at a stand still. Viggo takes the next exit, blows through a couple of blushing yellow lights and gets them to Home Depot in twenty-eight minutes. Viggo pretends not to notice Sean's scowl as he asks for a time check.
"An hour twenty-four." Sean's already decided the drive home doesn't count, because he just knows it's going to be more than an hour before he can get Viggo out of here. But he can so easily picture breathing warm down Viggo's neck and murmuring Half an hour's drive home, love, you've got two minutes to get your arse to a register... And there are bribes, threats and blackmails to be had, of course. All that and a new coat of paint for the kitchen. It's already shaping up to be an excellent day.
Sean gets out of the car and strides into the warehouse, snagging a sales flyer along the way and paging through it as he heads over to the paint section. "Mm -- Behr's on sale, but we tried that once, the coats take forever to dry and it takes three at the least, that's right out. Glidden... Ralph Lauren, who in fuck's name needs designer paint?"
He glances up from the flyer. "Viggo?" His shoulders sink as he looks around. "Oh, not already."
Viggo glances at the rack of how-to books set conveniently near the cash registers and one photograph catches his eye. He does not set much stock in commercial photography as a rule, but the cover of the Sunset backyard waterscaping book has an other-worldly feel to it. He glances up in time to see the general direction in which Sean is heading, then turns his attention back to the book.
An entire chapter on ponds intrigues him. A list of supplies is provided and it looks like Home Depot carries everything they would need to create a waterfall, pond and a small stream. They have the land, but it is an unwritten rule that Sean is in charge of landscaping. He makes a short detour through the garden section, checks to see if everything they would need is in stock, then heads quickly to the paint department to float the idea past Sean. He wonders if he'll have more success convincing Sean that they really need a pond if he promises to help or if he promises not to.
Viggo restrains himself from venturing through the tile department, wondering if natural stone would look good on the wall behind the stove, but if he doesn't locate Sean soon, he'll be stuck with a glaring white kitchen. "Sean?" he calls as he starts up the paint aisle. A few heads turn, but none belong to the right person. "Shit," he mutters. "Now what?" One of the two of them is lost, but this time it's not him.
Sean has been making a fast, methodical path through Home Depot, resisting the urge to look at the power drills and the temptation to pore over the kitchen fixtures -- the white glazed ceramic sink has never been one of Sean's favorite parts of their home -- in an effort to find Viggo as quickly as he can. He wishes, sometimes, that Home Depot would page lost customers over the age of six. Oh, but Viggo would never notice a page, anyway; he barely notices Sean tapping him on the shoulder in places like this, let alone an anonymous voice over a loudspeaker.
All right, back to the paint department; he's reached the end of the store, and no sign of Viggo yet. He gives a quick glance to his watch. Oh, plenty of time left. An hour seven minutes. When Sean notices a display of replacement wall switches, this time he doesn't simply jog past; rocker switches all over the house would be damned convenient.
Viggo weighs carefully all his options. He can stay in paint department, go back to the gardening section and find more accessories for the pond, check the decorating section where Home Depot has so thoughtfully laid out fully two dozen different kitchens, head to the lighting department or look for a new shower head to replace the one that's clogged with calcium deposits and lime. He figures he's got about 45 minutes before grace expires and Sean abandons him with no way other than the notoriously unreliable public transportation system to get him home.
Paint, he reminds himself. They came for paint, and his desire to see Sean smile at him, for him, keeps him firmly in place. He starts selecting colour chips, setting rust against forest green, looking for a certain vibration of colour where the two paint chips meet. Once he's determined which rust to buy, he can start looking at the vibrations between rust and pale yellow.
Sean gives himself a stern reminder that they're here for paint, and it's not just Viggo who can get lost in these places. He heads out of the aisle with the rocker switches and back to the paint department. And there's Viggo, mulling over paint chips. Sean frowns a bit. The colors in Viggo's hands do not look like plain white, or even eggshell.
"Is that forest green?" Sean asks. "Why are you looking at forest green paint?"
Viggo continues to hunt for the right vibratory rust colour to go with the Pines of Rome colour he's selected for the east wall. Broken Pipe is close, but still a bit to orange-y in his estimation. He wants something with a bit more brown to it. Viggo picks up Giant Sequoia and holds it next to Pines of Rome and looks at the edge where the two colours meet. He nods his head. This will work very well. He turns, intending to start his next search amongst the yellows, and jumps about a foot at seeing Sean standing not six inches away. His brain immediately short circuits as he looks into Sean's frustrated Light Tourmaline green eyes.
'Where to start?' he ponders, trying to seize just one thought of the many swirling with abandon in his head. But Sean is looking as though he's expecting an answer, though to what Viggo hasn't the slightest idea. "What?" he asks, taking refuge in puzzlement.
That puzzled look is one of the things Sean's become accustomed to with Viggo, and it's a good thing he finds it endearing; he sees it quite often. Sean walks around Viggo, bypassing the hands holding the paint chips, and wraps his arms around Viggo's waist from behind. He tucks his chin over Viggo's shoulder and grins. "I thought I said we were going with a white for the kitchen," he murmurs. "What are all the different colors for?"
Viggo resists the urge to turn within Sean's arms and nuzzle him, opting instead to simply melt into him. He wonders how Sean would react if he suggested they test the tensile strength of the shower door closures in the plumbing and bathroom department, they do need a new shower head after all, but ruthlessly pushes the thought aside, though visible evidence of its passage remains.
"You said we were going to paint the kitchen white. I said no such thing," Viggo informs him. "I've got this for the east wall and this one for the north wall," he says, brandishing paint chips like he brandished Anduril, "and I was about to look for a soft yellow for the third wall." It's quite a long sentence considering that paint loses to Sean every time the battle is waged.
Sean groans. "We've had this discussion before," he points out. "One color family per room. If you want a soft yellow for the wall where the notes are going, then we stick to goldenrods and off-whites for the rest of it." Actually, the idea of having a green-and-yellow kitchen is appealing for some reason -- maybe it dates back to the kitchen from Mr. Popper's Penguins, which Sean seems to remember being done with three green walls and one yellow -- but it's always better to start negotiations from a step back, so as to keep Viggo from talking him into anything too terrifying.
"Sorry, love, I don't remember a 'one colour family per room' conversation," Viggo replies, a frown creasing his forehead as he struggles to remember the circumstances that would have led him into making such a half-assed agreement. "Were we naked at the time?" he whispers, "because if we were, neither of us should be held accountable for any deals we make while fucking." Viggo looks at the paint chips again, wondering whether to press Sean into agreeing or to try to work within a two colour scheme. "Can we agree that "forest" is a colour family? Please?" he pleads, wondering how he's going to broach the subject of a pond in the backyard and which of the two is most important.
Sean lifts an eyebrow and nuzzles his cheek against Viggo's neck, the light scrape of stubble against stubble making him grin. "What if we go with your green..." and he tugs the paint chip out Viggo's hand, giving it another look -- it's really not half bad -- "...and the yellow..." and he nods over at the selection of yellows on the rack -- "And I agree to let you mix them a bit when we go home to make something in between? No rust this time." He puts his lips close to Viggo's ear and whispers, "And your time is running out. Better hurry and make a decision, love."
"You, sir, do not fight fair," Viggo whispers back, his lips close to Sean's ear. His tongue delicately travels along the shell of Sean's ear and Viggo smiles when Sean shudders. He's half hard himself and still needs to find the proper yellow. He is torn between Summer Butterfly and Lemon Ice and Sean's breath, warm on the back of his neck, is not helping his concentration.
"How much time do I have?" and his voice is not nearly as steady as he'd like it to be. They still need to have the paints mixed, pick up the supplies and Sean did say he could mix the colours a bit which he deliberately chooses to interpret in a different manner than he's certain Sean intended.
Luckily for Viggo, Sean can't see the mischievous gleam in his eye. The kitchen is certainly going to look different by the time Viggo's done with it; Sean has a pang of regret that he didn't simply grab an armful of rocker switches, since they're going to be doing some redecorating anyway. "Fifty-eight minutes," Sean says. He gives Viggo one more squeeze and then ducks toward the end of the aisle so he can take a look at the registers. "And there's a line three people deep at most of the lanes out there. Best to hurry." Sean's tempted to snatch one of the remaining paint chips at random and thrust it at Viggo, but he knows that one color is not the same as any other where Viggo is concerned.
"Why don't you pick up the shit we need to get this job done while I work out the yellow/green thing?" Viggo suggests, the relief at having at least thirty more minutes than he thought almost palpable. He turns back the paint chips and starts comparing green, rust and yellow, looking once again for the vibration that signifies he has the combination right. Since there's a line at each register, he can hit Sean with the pond idea while they wait.
"Just the green and yellow," Sean growls into Viggo's ear; he'll make a veto at the cash register if need be. He nips at Viggo's shoulder and nods. "I'll be back shortly. Ought to get a cart first." Paint is, after all, heavy.
The carts are over by the gardening supplies. Sean glances over, the green of several flats of ground cover catching his eye -- no, no. Get the paint supplies, then catch up with Viggo... well, the rocker switches first. But then the paint supplies, and then Viggo. Sean makes a mental count of the number of switches that need replacing in the house and puts nine switches in the cart, with one extra on the off-chance something goes wrong with one of the first nine.
And then it's paint trays and rollers, blue masking tape, brushes. All the necessities. Sean takes a moment to say a prayer of gratitude that Viggo isn't picking out these particular implements; there's a sponge that looks remarkably like a pizza cutter that Viggo would just love and Sean can't imagine what it's used for.
He sighs and throws it into the cart, and then goes to find Viggo amongst the paint chips.
He can't find the proper yellow. And despite Sean's order to the contrary, he has every intention of purchasing a quart of Giant Sequoia. Viggo considers all the places that yellow might be found; garden, tile, wallpaper, the design center, plus any packaging that coincidentally happens to be yellow. Home Depot has a custom paint matching service, though given enough time, something he is woefully short of, Viggo could mix his own yellow and come pretty close to what he is seeking.
Tile seems to be his best bet, so he wanders off in search of pale yellow tile to take over to the paint center. As he walks from one end to the other, it strikes him just how big this store is. If he were carrying his mobile he could call Sean and tell him where he was going, but chances were better than even that the battery would be dead. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time the phone had been charged.
As he walks into the tile section, Viggo is momentarily distracted by a rack of carpet samples. There, on the bottom of the rack is the colour he's been looking for. A pale, buttery yellow. He pulls the piece of carpeting from the rack and sets the rust and green paint chips on it. It's perfect. He picks up the sample and starts to leave the area when he is stopped by an associate in an orange apron.
"Sir, the carpet samples are not for sale."
Not in the paint section. Oh, it figures, and Sean is trying hard not to bellow in frustration. He could stay here, and hope Viggo comes back, or he could start up another row-by-row march through Home Depot looking for him.
Sighing, Sean takes off at double speed, the metal of his cart making a clanging noise as he pushes the vehicle past its comfortable speed limits.
He rounds a corner and hears something odd about carpet samples not being for sale, and his eyes light up. He wheels the cart around, and there's Viggo, looking terribly perplexed by a sales associate. Sean heads for both of them.
"Something the matter?" he asks, looking from one to the other.
"I was about to explain to this charming young lady that I need to borrow this so I can have the paint department match the colour. It's perfect and I haven't found a paint chip that matches it," Viggo explains, looking all the while at the sales associate. "Will that be okay? I'll bring it back once the paint guy is done, I promise."
Viggo holds his breath, waiting for the carpet lady to give the thumbs up or down. It seems like a reasonable request to him, but corporate America and Viggo seldom see eye to eye on a lot of things. "Or would you rather I left it with the staff in the paint department?" he continues as the silence lengthens.
"I'll get it back to you," Sean promises, and the serious look in his eyes seems to satisfy the carpet lady. She nods, and gives them both a slightly suspicious look as Sean wheels his cart back toward the paint department, keeping Viggo right beside him so he can't wander off.
"Really," Sean mutters, shaking his head. "Can't be satisfied with the paint chips. Have to run off and find a piece of carpet for the job." He waits until Viggo's looking away before grinning. Fuck, but you're absolutely adorable.
Viggo looks earnestly at Sean, his blue eyes soft and liquid. "You spend more time in the kitchen than I do," he murmurs, "and I want it to be someplace you'd like to be. I want it to feel warm and inviting, not sterile and efficient." God, he hates moments like these, when he can't find enough words to express what he's feeling. "I want you in there thinking 'Viggo did this for me because he loves me so damned much.'" The last words are whispered and heartfelt.
Sean can't stand it anymore. He wraps Viggo up in his arms, carpet square and all, and rubs his nose against Viggo's. "I love you that much, too," he whispers back. "Let's get your paint." And he knows, already, that he's not going to argue about the rust and if Viggo wants to mix and splatter paint in whatever random fashion suits him, Sean will let him, and he'll see precisely that on the walls: Viggo, and him, and what they've made together.
With Sean pressed up against him, the shower display is sounding better by the moment, but being back home is even better. Home, where there are walls, counters, floors, furniture and best of all, privacy. "I love you, Sean," he murmurs.
Once back in the paint section, Viggo grabs two one-gallon cans of semi-gloss and a one-quart can of eggshell finish and takes them to the paint center. He starts with the yellow since it will need to be computer matched. He explains what he wants to the paint guy and waits patiently for the computer to spit out the formula for the yellow that will match the carpet.
"Can I see the formula before you mix it?" he asks Ben, according to the name written on his orange apron in black marker. "I may want to make some changes to it."
Ben rolls his eyes. Yet another customer who thinks he knows more about paint and colour mixing than he does.
Sean tries not to laugh at the serious look on Viggo's face, not to mention the poor beleaguered paint man trying not to groan. He gives a quick check to his watch. Time's suddenly moving much more quickly; they have forty-two minutes before Sean's deadline is up. Sean suspects Viggo does know what he wants when it comes to tweaking the paint formula, and as soon as the paint's been mixed, Sean will get the carpet square back. He cranes his neck around trying to get a glimpse of the ground cover plants near the front of the store. Maybe just a little more ivy... Don't get distracted, Bean, or you'll never get out of here.
Viggo turns to Sean and asks, "How much time do we have left? This may take a while unless Ben here decides to let me see the formula." He knows exactly what he wants and he has a pretty good idea of the ratio of pigment that needs to be added. A glance at the formula book and the formula itself will let him know how close he is.
Viggo leans against the paint counter, waiting for both Ben and the colour matching computer to make up their minds. "If you want to wander for a bit, I'll keep an eye on the cart, and I'll promise to be here when you get back." He hopes Sean can read in his eyes that he means what he says. He will be there when Sean returns.
"But that's not fair," Sean says, shaking his head. "If you don't get to wander, I shouldn't get to wander." Left unsaid is the fact that he'd hate for Viggo to have to come track him down... and it's entirely possible that would happen if Sean is left to his own devices in the gardening section.
Still, the relative monotony of standing at the paint counter gets to Sean after a moment, and he picks up the piece of carpet. "Maybe I could just return this, if you're done with it. Or... I could go pick up a few more natural spectrum lightbulbs. I think we're down to our last spare."
"Are we done with this?" Viggo asks Ben, taking the carpet swatch from Sean in case the computer needs to look at it again.
"Yeah, I don't need it any more." Ben growls and it seems apparent to Viggo that he and Ben are going to butt heads at some point. Viggo is torn between trusting Ben and saving a bit of time on the back end. He hands the swatch back to Sean. "Thanks for taking this back to the carpet lady for me. It's going to take at least fifteen minutes before we get these paints mixed. Find what we need, and find something you want." Besides me, he adds silently.
"All right." Sean takes the carpet swatch and grins. "But I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Make sure you're still here."
And he's off, heading for the carpet section first, where the associate takes the swatch back with some relief. Sean winks at her before heading off to the gardening department. New gloves -- he can always use new work gloves -- and perhaps some ivy, but no, then he'd need another cart...
Get out of the gardening department, Bean. You don't need to redo the entire back garden. Still, something's seemed missing from the back garden of late, and Sean's not quite sure what it is. He decides to grab one of the orange buckets near the door -- they don't need another entire cart just for gloves and natural-spectrum lightbulbs -- and heads off toward the other end of the store, determined to get the lighting supplies and keep from getting too distracted.
Something catches his eye on the way back, though. It's a book, one with a particularly beautiful picture of a backyard pond, and Sean immediately thinks of Viggo. Oh, he'd love that. He picks up the book, quest for natural spectrum lightbulbs forgotten, and begins paging through it, wondering if he could manage to do the work for something as ambitious as a pond without Viggo noticing until it was done.
Authors:
atanvarne_lj and helens78Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bohemian!Viggo meets Neatnik!Sean.
Disclaimer: This never happened. All fiction.
What happens when you take Viggo to Home Depot? The mind boggles.
atanvarne_lj, thanks so much for writing this with me! *squee*Sean shakes his head at the wall. He's been scrubbing at the notes for far too long this time, and it doesn't help that Viggo has outlawed all non-organic, non-biodegradable cleaners from the house. If Sean had some nice toxic chemicals to work with, he might be able to get the last set of notes off the wall, but he doesn't think it's going to work this time.
He tosses the rag aside and plants his hands on his hips. Nothing for it; the wall's going to need repainting. He trots through the house until he tracks down Viggo, and then crouches down next to him. This next -- this is probably a terrible idea, because the moment the invitation's issued, he can't take it back. He's signing away hours of his life here.
But damn if Viggo isn't adorable in hardware stores. Sean grins. "I'm thinking we need some paint for the kitchen. Wall paint," he clarifies, in case Viggo gets the idea that tempera would do. "Going off to Home Depot. Want to join me?"
Viggo continues to write for a moment longer, then looks at the words scrawled in his journal. '...callously disregard the will of paint at Home Depot.' He blinks owlishly at the sentence, certain that was not what he meant to say, but it is clear that the train of thought has left the station without him. Again.
The word 'kitchen' reminds Viggo he has not eaten for hours, so consumed with the constant revelations streaming from the White House about the war in Iraq that such mundane thoughts about small details like lunch have escaped his notice.
"Hold that thought," Viggo murmurs, touching Sean's face lightly before he dashes into the kitchen. He pulls open the refrigerator door and grabs a slice of 'pizza;' called that simply because it's open faced and wedge shaped. This pizza was made with a stone ground wheat flour crust, a blanc-mange sauce that Viggo seasoned with a dozen different herbs grabbed at random from the spice rack, and topped with mushrooms, carrots, corn, fresh spinach leaves, tofu crumbles and nutmeg, which Viggo explained to Sean in all seriousness enhances the taste of the tofu.
While chewing, he looks at the wall for the quote about Reagan and Noriega that he scrawled somewhere near the stove about a month ago. It's gone as are all the rest of his notes. Vanished. Except for the remains of a few he had written in indelible ink, now appearing like ghosts trying to break through the not-quite-white of the kitchen wall, they might never have existed at all.
"Sean!" he bellows. "Where the hell are my notes?"
"Relax," Sean mutters. He holds up a small transparent box full of note cards, each of which has a note from the wall written down in meticulous, ordered fashion. Where there were dates and times, Sean transcribed those and placed them in order; where there weren't, Sean alphabetized by the first word in the note. He was even careful to reproduce the physical location of words on the notes; haphazard notes are scribbled down haphazardly onto note cards, while the piece that read
dreams
fashion in
August
TEMPERAMENT
is recreated in all its odd, unpredictable glory.
"They're all here," Sean adds. "You were running out of space."
Viggo beams, but it's unclear whether he is smiling at Sean or the box in his hand. No matter. His thoughts are safe. He starts to flip through the cards, intent on finding the quote about Panama, but remembers suddenly that Sean had asked him a question. Kitchen, paint, Home Depot. Shopping?
"Tell me if I am remembering this correctly. Did you ask me if I wanted to go to Home Depot with you?" Viggo is instantly suspicious. He and Sean have worked out a truce regarding short trips to the grocery, the video store and two independent bookstores, but Sean almost always balks at the thought of Viggo loose in a store with more than eight aisles. He moves close to Sean, so close that their breath mingles, and drapes his arms around Sean's neck. "Is there a reward in my future if I promise to be very, very good? Or should I promise to be very, very bad instead?"
"Don't push your luck too far," Sean warns, but the heat in his voice is all directed into the realm of the erotic. With Viggo's body pressed up against him, Sean is easily distracted, and the idea of devising some reward for Viggo for good behavior in a hardware store is almost as appealing as the idea of seeing what Viggo will do to make up for bad behavior. "And you'll be taking your chances either way," he grins.
Viggo laughs low in his throat. "I haven't run out of luck yet," he teases. "But I'm still a little unclear on whether I should plan to rein in my natural curiosity or whether I can explore," he murmurs against Sean's lips. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Viggo's eyes begin to take on a far away expression as he contemplates the wonders to be had in a place with as many things as a warehouse sized hardware store. He smiles into Sean's eyes. "Yeah, I'll come with you. Or after you, if you prefer," he adds wickedly, watching Sean with an air of expectation. If Sean's tongue flicks over his lips, as Viggo anticipates, the trip might have to be postponed. Viggo loves testing Sean's resolve; he can be incredibly single-minded at times, but he hasn't taken the time to evaluate Sean's mood, although the early signs are promising.
Ah, temptation. Sean wraps his arms around Viggo's waist and leans forward just a touch, brushing his nose against Viggo's once, twice, before letting his lips settle over Viggo's -- briefly.
"Paint," Sean breathes. "We'd best go now, or we won't get out of the house for hours." He grins. "Tell you what. Two hours from now I want to be in the kitchen with paint out on a tray and a roller in my hand. What we do in the meantime is up for discussion." Pitting Viggo's lust against his urge to tinker in Home Depot may be slightly on the cruel side, but Sean's learned that open-ended offers invariably lead to meanderings that take all day.
Viggo groans audibly, paint at that moment being the last thing on his mind. Damn, damn, damn, Viggo thinks, wondering how he's going to manage a trip to Home Depot in less than two hours. He could spend two hours selecting paint colours alone, much less wandering through any other part of the store.
Viggo is not without a cruel streak of his own. If he can lose Sean in the gardening section, he contemplates, that might buy him more time in some of the other, more intriguing areas of the store. He's certain that some of the manufacturers would go into cardiac arrest if they had any idea of the uses to which their products can be put, and Viggo has a moment of giddiness imagining the warning labels he'd write given half a chance.
"Do you have a colour family in mind, or are you going to require my input on every single paint chip they've got? They've got a lot of colours, Sean, and you're only giving me two hours." He frowns for a moment. "Is that two hours from now, or two hours in the store?" Minutes are ticking away and he is conscious of each and every one of them.
"Two hours from now," Sean clarifies. He trails a fingertip down the side of Viggo's cheek. "And we don't need to spend that much time looking at paint chips. We're looking for what we had before -- a plain satin white. Although..." He pauses, and his eyes lose focus for a moment. "Perhaps a high gloss would help with getting the notes washed off in the future..."
Viggo cups Sean's face and leans in for a kiss. "Sustenance," he whispers, then reluctantly pulls himself away from Sean and hurries off to find his shoes. He returns to the kitchen, reasonably presentable by his standards, and begins to look around for the keys to his truck. He is fairly certain that he left them on the counter nearest the refrigerator, but they are nowhere to be seen. He mentally retraces his steps--he came in through the garage, stopped to check the mail, came into the kitchen... He opened the pantry door, and there, next to the cans of stewed tomatoes, were his keys.
With a triumphant cry he snatches them off the shelf, relieved that he found them before Sean could lecture him about putting things where they belong, and shouts for Sean.
"C'mon. Time's a wasting, and you've made me a desperate man." He has already decided that the kitchen will NOT be white. Especially not high gloss white. The house borders on institutional as it is, what with Sean's mania for cleanliness. He's thinking a deep rust for the north wall, a forest green for the east wall and he'll let Sean have a pale yellow for the west wall, the one he uses most frequently for jotting down his thoughts and telephone messages.
His heart skips a beat when Sean walks into the room. It always does, no matter how many times in a day Viggo sees him, and he hopes this is a permanent condition. "How much time do we have left?" For someone as chronologically challenged as he is, time has suddenly become paramount.
Sean makes a show out of checking his watch, although if he had to guess, he'd say Viggo's been on this scavenger hunt for about ten minutes -- no, eight, according to his watch. "One hour, fifty-two minutes," Sean grins. "And speed at your own risk, because if we get pulled over, that'll take up more of time, won't it?" He does his usual pat-down to make sure he has everything he needs -- left front pocket, mobile phone; right front pocket, keys; left rear pocket, nothing, but it's part of the routine; right rear pocket, wallet.
He gives a slight nod to the garage door. "Shall we?" It takes twenty-three minutes to get to Home Depot on a good day; if traffic's bad, Sean will simply say the drive to and from doesn't count. Of course, he's not going to tell Viggo that -- that would just ensure they end up taking the scenic route.
Sean and Viggo get in the truck and Viggo turns on KFWB to listen for traffic updates. If the 405 is a mess, then he'll take surface streets. He gets on the freeway at Washington and, sure enough, traffic is at a stand still. Viggo takes the next exit, blows through a couple of blushing yellow lights and gets them to Home Depot in twenty-eight minutes. Viggo pretends not to notice Sean's scowl as he asks for a time check.
"An hour twenty-four." Sean's already decided the drive home doesn't count, because he just knows it's going to be more than an hour before he can get Viggo out of here. But he can so easily picture breathing warm down Viggo's neck and murmuring Half an hour's drive home, love, you've got two minutes to get your arse to a register... And there are bribes, threats and blackmails to be had, of course. All that and a new coat of paint for the kitchen. It's already shaping up to be an excellent day.
Sean gets out of the car and strides into the warehouse, snagging a sales flyer along the way and paging through it as he heads over to the paint section. "Mm -- Behr's on sale, but we tried that once, the coats take forever to dry and it takes three at the least, that's right out. Glidden... Ralph Lauren, who in fuck's name needs designer paint?"
He glances up from the flyer. "Viggo?" His shoulders sink as he looks around. "Oh, not already."
Viggo glances at the rack of how-to books set conveniently near the cash registers and one photograph catches his eye. He does not set much stock in commercial photography as a rule, but the cover of the Sunset backyard waterscaping book has an other-worldly feel to it. He glances up in time to see the general direction in which Sean is heading, then turns his attention back to the book.
An entire chapter on ponds intrigues him. A list of supplies is provided and it looks like Home Depot carries everything they would need to create a waterfall, pond and a small stream. They have the land, but it is an unwritten rule that Sean is in charge of landscaping. He makes a short detour through the garden section, checks to see if everything they would need is in stock, then heads quickly to the paint department to float the idea past Sean. He wonders if he'll have more success convincing Sean that they really need a pond if he promises to help or if he promises not to.
Viggo restrains himself from venturing through the tile department, wondering if natural stone would look good on the wall behind the stove, but if he doesn't locate Sean soon, he'll be stuck with a glaring white kitchen. "Sean?" he calls as he starts up the paint aisle. A few heads turn, but none belong to the right person. "Shit," he mutters. "Now what?" One of the two of them is lost, but this time it's not him.
Sean has been making a fast, methodical path through Home Depot, resisting the urge to look at the power drills and the temptation to pore over the kitchen fixtures -- the white glazed ceramic sink has never been one of Sean's favorite parts of their home -- in an effort to find Viggo as quickly as he can. He wishes, sometimes, that Home Depot would page lost customers over the age of six. Oh, but Viggo would never notice a page, anyway; he barely notices Sean tapping him on the shoulder in places like this, let alone an anonymous voice over a loudspeaker.
All right, back to the paint department; he's reached the end of the store, and no sign of Viggo yet. He gives a quick glance to his watch. Oh, plenty of time left. An hour seven minutes. When Sean notices a display of replacement wall switches, this time he doesn't simply jog past; rocker switches all over the house would be damned convenient.
Viggo weighs carefully all his options. He can stay in paint department, go back to the gardening section and find more accessories for the pond, check the decorating section where Home Depot has so thoughtfully laid out fully two dozen different kitchens, head to the lighting department or look for a new shower head to replace the one that's clogged with calcium deposits and lime. He figures he's got about 45 minutes before grace expires and Sean abandons him with no way other than the notoriously unreliable public transportation system to get him home.
Paint, he reminds himself. They came for paint, and his desire to see Sean smile at him, for him, keeps him firmly in place. He starts selecting colour chips, setting rust against forest green, looking for a certain vibration of colour where the two paint chips meet. Once he's determined which rust to buy, he can start looking at the vibrations between rust and pale yellow.
Sean gives himself a stern reminder that they're here for paint, and it's not just Viggo who can get lost in these places. He heads out of the aisle with the rocker switches and back to the paint department. And there's Viggo, mulling over paint chips. Sean frowns a bit. The colors in Viggo's hands do not look like plain white, or even eggshell.
"Is that forest green?" Sean asks. "Why are you looking at forest green paint?"
Viggo continues to hunt for the right vibratory rust colour to go with the Pines of Rome colour he's selected for the east wall. Broken Pipe is close, but still a bit to orange-y in his estimation. He wants something with a bit more brown to it. Viggo picks up Giant Sequoia and holds it next to Pines of Rome and looks at the edge where the two colours meet. He nods his head. This will work very well. He turns, intending to start his next search amongst the yellows, and jumps about a foot at seeing Sean standing not six inches away. His brain immediately short circuits as he looks into Sean's frustrated Light Tourmaline green eyes.
'Where to start?' he ponders, trying to seize just one thought of the many swirling with abandon in his head. But Sean is looking as though he's expecting an answer, though to what Viggo hasn't the slightest idea. "What?" he asks, taking refuge in puzzlement.
That puzzled look is one of the things Sean's become accustomed to with Viggo, and it's a good thing he finds it endearing; he sees it quite often. Sean walks around Viggo, bypassing the hands holding the paint chips, and wraps his arms around Viggo's waist from behind. He tucks his chin over Viggo's shoulder and grins. "I thought I said we were going with a white for the kitchen," he murmurs. "What are all the different colors for?"
Viggo resists the urge to turn within Sean's arms and nuzzle him, opting instead to simply melt into him. He wonders how Sean would react if he suggested they test the tensile strength of the shower door closures in the plumbing and bathroom department, they do need a new shower head after all, but ruthlessly pushes the thought aside, though visible evidence of its passage remains.
"You said we were going to paint the kitchen white. I said no such thing," Viggo informs him. "I've got this for the east wall and this one for the north wall," he says, brandishing paint chips like he brandished Anduril, "and I was about to look for a soft yellow for the third wall." It's quite a long sentence considering that paint loses to Sean every time the battle is waged.
Sean groans. "We've had this discussion before," he points out. "One color family per room. If you want a soft yellow for the wall where the notes are going, then we stick to goldenrods and off-whites for the rest of it." Actually, the idea of having a green-and-yellow kitchen is appealing for some reason -- maybe it dates back to the kitchen from Mr. Popper's Penguins, which Sean seems to remember being done with three green walls and one yellow -- but it's always better to start negotiations from a step back, so as to keep Viggo from talking him into anything too terrifying.
"Sorry, love, I don't remember a 'one colour family per room' conversation," Viggo replies, a frown creasing his forehead as he struggles to remember the circumstances that would have led him into making such a half-assed agreement. "Were we naked at the time?" he whispers, "because if we were, neither of us should be held accountable for any deals we make while fucking." Viggo looks at the paint chips again, wondering whether to press Sean into agreeing or to try to work within a two colour scheme. "Can we agree that "forest" is a colour family? Please?" he pleads, wondering how he's going to broach the subject of a pond in the backyard and which of the two is most important.
Sean lifts an eyebrow and nuzzles his cheek against Viggo's neck, the light scrape of stubble against stubble making him grin. "What if we go with your green..." and he tugs the paint chip out Viggo's hand, giving it another look -- it's really not half bad -- "...and the yellow..." and he nods over at the selection of yellows on the rack -- "And I agree to let you mix them a bit when we go home to make something in between? No rust this time." He puts his lips close to Viggo's ear and whispers, "And your time is running out. Better hurry and make a decision, love."
"You, sir, do not fight fair," Viggo whispers back, his lips close to Sean's ear. His tongue delicately travels along the shell of Sean's ear and Viggo smiles when Sean shudders. He's half hard himself and still needs to find the proper yellow. He is torn between Summer Butterfly and Lemon Ice and Sean's breath, warm on the back of his neck, is not helping his concentration.
"How much time do I have?" and his voice is not nearly as steady as he'd like it to be. They still need to have the paints mixed, pick up the supplies and Sean did say he could mix the colours a bit which he deliberately chooses to interpret in a different manner than he's certain Sean intended.
Luckily for Viggo, Sean can't see the mischievous gleam in his eye. The kitchen is certainly going to look different by the time Viggo's done with it; Sean has a pang of regret that he didn't simply grab an armful of rocker switches, since they're going to be doing some redecorating anyway. "Fifty-eight minutes," Sean says. He gives Viggo one more squeeze and then ducks toward the end of the aisle so he can take a look at the registers. "And there's a line three people deep at most of the lanes out there. Best to hurry." Sean's tempted to snatch one of the remaining paint chips at random and thrust it at Viggo, but he knows that one color is not the same as any other where Viggo is concerned.
"Why don't you pick up the shit we need to get this job done while I work out the yellow/green thing?" Viggo suggests, the relief at having at least thirty more minutes than he thought almost palpable. He turns back the paint chips and starts comparing green, rust and yellow, looking once again for the vibration that signifies he has the combination right. Since there's a line at each register, he can hit Sean with the pond idea while they wait.
"Just the green and yellow," Sean growls into Viggo's ear; he'll make a veto at the cash register if need be. He nips at Viggo's shoulder and nods. "I'll be back shortly. Ought to get a cart first." Paint is, after all, heavy.
The carts are over by the gardening supplies. Sean glances over, the green of several flats of ground cover catching his eye -- no, no. Get the paint supplies, then catch up with Viggo... well, the rocker switches first. But then the paint supplies, and then Viggo. Sean makes a mental count of the number of switches that need replacing in the house and puts nine switches in the cart, with one extra on the off-chance something goes wrong with one of the first nine.
And then it's paint trays and rollers, blue masking tape, brushes. All the necessities. Sean takes a moment to say a prayer of gratitude that Viggo isn't picking out these particular implements; there's a sponge that looks remarkably like a pizza cutter that Viggo would just love and Sean can't imagine what it's used for.
He sighs and throws it into the cart, and then goes to find Viggo amongst the paint chips.
He can't find the proper yellow. And despite Sean's order to the contrary, he has every intention of purchasing a quart of Giant Sequoia. Viggo considers all the places that yellow might be found; garden, tile, wallpaper, the design center, plus any packaging that coincidentally happens to be yellow. Home Depot has a custom paint matching service, though given enough time, something he is woefully short of, Viggo could mix his own yellow and come pretty close to what he is seeking.
Tile seems to be his best bet, so he wanders off in search of pale yellow tile to take over to the paint center. As he walks from one end to the other, it strikes him just how big this store is. If he were carrying his mobile he could call Sean and tell him where he was going, but chances were better than even that the battery would be dead. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time the phone had been charged.
As he walks into the tile section, Viggo is momentarily distracted by a rack of carpet samples. There, on the bottom of the rack is the colour he's been looking for. A pale, buttery yellow. He pulls the piece of carpeting from the rack and sets the rust and green paint chips on it. It's perfect. He picks up the sample and starts to leave the area when he is stopped by an associate in an orange apron.
"Sir, the carpet samples are not for sale."
Not in the paint section. Oh, it figures, and Sean is trying hard not to bellow in frustration. He could stay here, and hope Viggo comes back, or he could start up another row-by-row march through Home Depot looking for him.
Sighing, Sean takes off at double speed, the metal of his cart making a clanging noise as he pushes the vehicle past its comfortable speed limits.
He rounds a corner and hears something odd about carpet samples not being for sale, and his eyes light up. He wheels the cart around, and there's Viggo, looking terribly perplexed by a sales associate. Sean heads for both of them.
"Something the matter?" he asks, looking from one to the other.
"I was about to explain to this charming young lady that I need to borrow this so I can have the paint department match the colour. It's perfect and I haven't found a paint chip that matches it," Viggo explains, looking all the while at the sales associate. "Will that be okay? I'll bring it back once the paint guy is done, I promise."
Viggo holds his breath, waiting for the carpet lady to give the thumbs up or down. It seems like a reasonable request to him, but corporate America and Viggo seldom see eye to eye on a lot of things. "Or would you rather I left it with the staff in the paint department?" he continues as the silence lengthens.
"I'll get it back to you," Sean promises, and the serious look in his eyes seems to satisfy the carpet lady. She nods, and gives them both a slightly suspicious look as Sean wheels his cart back toward the paint department, keeping Viggo right beside him so he can't wander off.
"Really," Sean mutters, shaking his head. "Can't be satisfied with the paint chips. Have to run off and find a piece of carpet for the job." He waits until Viggo's looking away before grinning. Fuck, but you're absolutely adorable.
Viggo looks earnestly at Sean, his blue eyes soft and liquid. "You spend more time in the kitchen than I do," he murmurs, "and I want it to be someplace you'd like to be. I want it to feel warm and inviting, not sterile and efficient." God, he hates moments like these, when he can't find enough words to express what he's feeling. "I want you in there thinking 'Viggo did this for me because he loves me so damned much.'" The last words are whispered and heartfelt.
Sean can't stand it anymore. He wraps Viggo up in his arms, carpet square and all, and rubs his nose against Viggo's. "I love you that much, too," he whispers back. "Let's get your paint." And he knows, already, that he's not going to argue about the rust and if Viggo wants to mix and splatter paint in whatever random fashion suits him, Sean will let him, and he'll see precisely that on the walls: Viggo, and him, and what they've made together.
With Sean pressed up against him, the shower display is sounding better by the moment, but being back home is even better. Home, where there are walls, counters, floors, furniture and best of all, privacy. "I love you, Sean," he murmurs.
Once back in the paint section, Viggo grabs two one-gallon cans of semi-gloss and a one-quart can of eggshell finish and takes them to the paint center. He starts with the yellow since it will need to be computer matched. He explains what he wants to the paint guy and waits patiently for the computer to spit out the formula for the yellow that will match the carpet.
"Can I see the formula before you mix it?" he asks Ben, according to the name written on his orange apron in black marker. "I may want to make some changes to it."
Ben rolls his eyes. Yet another customer who thinks he knows more about paint and colour mixing than he does.
Sean tries not to laugh at the serious look on Viggo's face, not to mention the poor beleaguered paint man trying not to groan. He gives a quick check to his watch. Time's suddenly moving much more quickly; they have forty-two minutes before Sean's deadline is up. Sean suspects Viggo does know what he wants when it comes to tweaking the paint formula, and as soon as the paint's been mixed, Sean will get the carpet square back. He cranes his neck around trying to get a glimpse of the ground cover plants near the front of the store. Maybe just a little more ivy... Don't get distracted, Bean, or you'll never get out of here.
Viggo turns to Sean and asks, "How much time do we have left? This may take a while unless Ben here decides to let me see the formula." He knows exactly what he wants and he has a pretty good idea of the ratio of pigment that needs to be added. A glance at the formula book and the formula itself will let him know how close he is.
Viggo leans against the paint counter, waiting for both Ben and the colour matching computer to make up their minds. "If you want to wander for a bit, I'll keep an eye on the cart, and I'll promise to be here when you get back." He hopes Sean can read in his eyes that he means what he says. He will be there when Sean returns.
"But that's not fair," Sean says, shaking his head. "If you don't get to wander, I shouldn't get to wander." Left unsaid is the fact that he'd hate for Viggo to have to come track him down... and it's entirely possible that would happen if Sean is left to his own devices in the gardening section.
Still, the relative monotony of standing at the paint counter gets to Sean after a moment, and he picks up the piece of carpet. "Maybe I could just return this, if you're done with it. Or... I could go pick up a few more natural spectrum lightbulbs. I think we're down to our last spare."
"Are we done with this?" Viggo asks Ben, taking the carpet swatch from Sean in case the computer needs to look at it again.
"Yeah, I don't need it any more." Ben growls and it seems apparent to Viggo that he and Ben are going to butt heads at some point. Viggo is torn between trusting Ben and saving a bit of time on the back end. He hands the swatch back to Sean. "Thanks for taking this back to the carpet lady for me. It's going to take at least fifteen minutes before we get these paints mixed. Find what we need, and find something you want." Besides me, he adds silently.
"All right." Sean takes the carpet swatch and grins. "But I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Make sure you're still here."
And he's off, heading for the carpet section first, where the associate takes the swatch back with some relief. Sean winks at her before heading off to the gardening department. New gloves -- he can always use new work gloves -- and perhaps some ivy, but no, then he'd need another cart...
Get out of the gardening department, Bean. You don't need to redo the entire back garden. Still, something's seemed missing from the back garden of late, and Sean's not quite sure what it is. He decides to grab one of the orange buckets near the door -- they don't need another entire cart just for gloves and natural-spectrum lightbulbs -- and heads off toward the other end of the store, determined to get the lighting supplies and keep from getting too distracted.
Something catches his eye on the way back, though. It's a book, one with a particularly beautiful picture of a backyard pond, and Sean immediately thinks of Viggo. Oh, he'd love that. He picks up the book, quest for natural spectrum lightbulbs forgotten, and begins paging through it, wondering if he could manage to do the work for something as ambitious as a pond without Viggo noticing until it was done.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 05:12 am (UTC)Oh god, so adorable!! I love it! Viggo and Sean both wanting a pond... and at Home Depot! *squees* Love it, love it.
And there's a part 2! *swoon* You're both gods, I swear it.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 05:18 am (UTC)But oh, heck. I inadvertently posted the whole thing in part 1 (as you probably figured out when you went to look at part 2. Has been fixed! *feels dumb but was very very excited to get this posted at all*
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Date: 2003-11-20 06:20 am (UTC)And I completely relate to the 'lost in a hardware warehouse' syndrome. Have been known to do that myself. [g]
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Date: 2003-11-20 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 08:01 am (UTC)And all the paint chip colors...definitely ages to pick something out...and the hilarious names the colors have, too...heee.
I love that Sean's worried about Vig being distracted and he keeps getting distracted himself. And I totally meeped at:
"I want you in there thinking 'Viggo did this for me because he loves me so damned much.'" The last words are whispered and heartfelt.
*adores* And I love, too, that Sean found the pond book...that was priceless!! :P
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Date: 2003-11-20 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 08:20 am (UTC)Is this carrying on from another fic? I seem to remember one from a while back about Viggo writing notes on the wall and not having paid his electric bill...
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Date: 2003-11-20 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 07:31 pm (UTC)HD!Sean: You realize I only get this neurotic about keeping house because of what I'd be faced with otherwise, don't you?
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Date: 2003-11-20 10:47 am (UTC)*skips off to read part 2*
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Date: 2003-11-20 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 10:47 am (UTC)I loved this to bits!!!!! :)
Right. Now that's out of my system, let me try to point out specifics:
- Viggo's wonderful rambling thoughts. Captured absolutely perfectly. I just couldn't help smiling as he went on and on. Great characterization.
- The way they're both so obviously in love and lust, yet aren't 'feminized'. Woot!
- Sean having his own issues with getting lost in Home Depot.
- How well they know each other. Again, done wonderfully well - sweetly yet not overly sappy. The pond thing. *melts*
- Giant Sequoia. *snicker*
- Sean's transfering Viggo's notes, layout and all, from the wall to cards. Again, *melts*.
- Viggo helping Ben with the colours. Again, I could absolutely just picture him doing this.
- The lovely, delicious, wonderful smut. Their familiarity with each other, yet the way they still make each other sooo aroused. The reality of the logistics of having seat belts digging in, etc. Nice touch. :)
- The lovely, delicious, wonderful...oh wait...already said that. :)
- Oh, Viggo's hunt for his keys. So cute.
- Okay, I'll be here all day....so let me just say that I looooved this fic. Very realistic, great flow to it, really great portrayal of the way they relate, how they know each other so well, how much they love each other - all done without going off the deep end of sappy and unrealistic or feminizing either them or their relationship. Been ages since I've read a Sean/Viggo fic that I loved this much. Thanks so much!!! :)
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Date: 2003-11-20 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 02:56 pm (UTC)And the paint colors, and Viggo hating white... *grin* he should see my living room, it's painted in a blue-green shade called "Kangaroo." Personally, if I ever saw a kangaroo that color, I'd run.
But both of them thinking about a pond ... each to please the other... *sighs sappily* mmmgood! Off to read part two and squeal more now!
*flings arms around you both and hugs tight*
~Kris
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Date: 2003-11-20 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 09:23 pm (UTC)Damn if the two of you aren't adorable *g*
And it is a well known scientific mystery that I turn into a puddle of goo whenever the word owlishly turns up in a fic and if that didn't the trick . "I want you in there thinking 'Viggo did this for me because he loves me so damned much.'" this did it
*meep*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-20 09:24 pm (UTC)