rugbytackle | RPS thriple drabble: Suspended (S/V, PG)

Title: Suspended
Author:phantomas
Pairing: S/V
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not for profit, figment of my imagination
Feedback: welcome

Suspended

The images on the TV screen run smoothly - a feast of flowers, colours, smiling people, white flashes, all proceeding slowly on the red carpet, under the sun.
It’s a pleasant feeling, in a way, although a little voice tells him he should have been there, too.
He could have been there. Not in the parade, no, of course not, but as a guest, as a friend.
He should have talked to Peter.
It could have been arranged.

It’s a nagging feeling. Disturbing.

Or, maybe he had waited for him to call.

Maybe.

Sean wasn’t sure he wanted to go there.
What had happened, when he was in New Zealand, had happened, and it had been good, though bloody scary.
And bloody difficult to keep it quiet, keep it a secret, something he wasn’t too sure about still now.
In fact, something he tried not think about at all, quickly put past behind, blamed on the moment, the atmosphere, the isolation.

And blamed on Viggo, too, in part, not in a bad way, but why did he have to be some damn...bloody good actor, bloody artist, painter, photographer, poet, fisherman, camper and what have you. Sharing some of Sean’s same experience, having been there and done that, someone you could talk to and he would listen, really listen, and then slowly and thoughtfully he would comment, tracing his fingertips along the rim of the glass, one day the scruffy, worn-out Ranger, the other the blond, bare-feet celebrity walking at dawn in the empty streets of Wellington.

Bloody nuisance, too.

And Sean couldn’t help grinning, a little.

It was a good week, after all.
Started well, with the Blades winning and now the premiere apparently being a success.
His mobile would ring, eventually.
He knew that.

Viggo always called, in the end.
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