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Apr. 30th, 2004 07:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
faelhach.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Infatuation (1/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faelhach
Pairing(s): SB/VM, slight DM/OB
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: Hot men. Not mine. It makes me sad that none of this happened. I have no money. Please don't sue.
Archive: Rugbytackle, if you please!
Note: This is the first SV RPS that I've written by myself and the first full-length fic I've written in a long time. Be gentle. Feedback always encouraged and appreciated!
Thanks tojennthestrange and silveryouko for the betas.
Sean winced as he pushed open the bathroom door and the loud music assailed his ears once again. He stopped to watch Orlando and Dominic engage in a heated, if sloppy and very pissed, kiss with amusement before heading over to the booth Viggo had commandeered earlier. The floor shook slightly in time with the bass and he had to yell several times before his fellow man of Gondor heard him and scooted over to make room.
The older man was hunched over his drink and entirely unresponsive, as he had been all evening, so Sean left him be. He was content enough to sit back and study him, after all, and what better time to do it than when Viggo wasn’t even aware he was watching?
He grinned at the sour expression on Viggo’s face. He had been amazed that Viggo had actually agreed to go out with them tonight, but secretly pleased that he wouldn’t be the only “old man” there, as Orlando had dubbed them. And for other reasons, of course, but . . . well, that was a given.
He had never met anyone quite like Viggo Mortensen before. From the first day of production – a warm handshake and hand on his shoulder and a crushed velvet voice – to the weeks and months that brought the cast closer together – fishing, dinner, surfing, trading books, going to bars, running lines together, cracking jokes – he had known that Viggo was something special.
Just how special, however, he hadn’t fully realized until recently.
The man was just so bloody talented! There was no one else who could have played the role of Aragorn, and he had seen enough of Viggo’s other movies to know that there was a well of untapped acting ability hidden beneath his reserved surface. He truly seemed to be Aragorn, and it was a beautiful experience to watch him slip in and out of the role so fluidly. There was so much natural grace and a sense of reality in everything that he did, from his painting to his photography to his verse and back to his acting. The magazines had taken to calling him Hollywood’s “Renaissance Man,” and Sean was inclined to agree with them.
He was a grounded, humble strength that the cast would have sorely missed had he decided not to join them for this journey. The hobbits were the source of merriment on the set, and Orlando had taken to falling in with them and creating his own brand of mischief. Ian, John, and Christopher guided them all so gently and subtly that sometimes even Sean would not notice how much they influenced him and drove him to be better. Liv and Cate were gorgeous and close to everyone’s hearts; they were their princesses, and treated accordingly. David, Andy, Hugo and all the rest provided strong support and took to their smaller, yet pivotal, roles naturally. They provided a refreshing interlude when the dynamics of the Fellowship got to be too much for any one actor, and lent their ears and comforting company to anyone who needed it.
And then there was Viggo, almost lost in the sea of strong personalities and whirlwind friendships. But that was only if you didn’t know the man at all. Even upon first meeting him there was a sense of strength about him: a warm, vibrant presence that never ceased to soothe and engage you at the same time. He was reserved by nature, but if you had the interest and the time to look past his quiet exterior you could come to know the passion that lay beneath very easily.
Sean didn’t want to say that he was perfect – he had been around the block and through enough lovers, both male and female, to know that perfection exists in the eye of the beholder. But Viggo was damn near perfect, and that scared the shit out of him if he was going to be honest about this to himself. Any other infatuation that had struck him throughout his life was one that he was always able to control; he was the one who made the first move, and he was the one who usually knew when to end it.
But Viggo was different. A warm hand over his own and dancing blue eyes as he described his latest painting or other creative work. A brotherly arm around his shoulder and soft, rich laughter over a cup of coffee or late night bourbon. A giddy burst of boyish energy, usually resulting in Sean or one of the hobbits lying on the ground beside him, wheezing and laughing. And that melting, brilliant smile that so easily rendered him speechless and with the barest hint of a flush on his tanned cheeks.
He racked his brain for a bit, trying to remember the exact moment when he had realized that he wanted Viggo as something more than a friend. It was true that there had always been some unspoken element between them; they had been thrown together by their age and respective roles, naturally, and a close, easy friendship had developed quite smoothly out of that. Viggo had always been a source of comfort; he was there for him during endless shouting matches with his ex-wife on the phone about their daughters and why their marriage had failed. He was always ready with a kind word or small gesture when it was least expected. And, best of all, he never expected any more from him than the simple joy of his presence, day after day.
It took him awhile, but he was able to settle on a certain Wednesday about five or six months ago. Sean had spent two weeks previously working on the Osgiliath scenes with David, so he had been separated from the rest of the Fellowship. It had been a long shoot because Peter wasn’t sure which version of the scene he wanted to use, and extremely frustrating. There had been some strange flu going around and David, then Sean and then several of the extras had gotten sick. Once all of them had recovered they had quickly found out just how difficult it was to move around in the Gondorian armor and still manage to act the way Peter wanted. The result was a long and tiring shoot for all involved.
And so the next week he had emerged, grumpy and exhausted, from his trailer to learn that he and Viggo were going to shoot the Lothlorien scene in which he revealed what Galadriel had told Boromir. Several cups of coffee and a murmured conversation with the other actor later, Sean had felt marginally better. That was before they started shooting, however, and he realized that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other man.
He had written it off at first as the emotions stirred up by the rather intimate scene, but one thing he knew from that moment on was that there was something about Viggo that drew him in. It just took him awhile to realize that what he was feeling was first desire and then, dare he admit it, love.
He moved with an eerie grace that was highlighted by the soft lighting and ethereal scenery of the elven forest. It was easy to forget that they were in a studio on such a set, and especially on such a set with Viggo. Aragorn’s elvish upbringing was evident in the flow of his words and his body as he consoled Boromir, which was a testament to Viggo’s superior acting skills.
Sean’s body had heated slightly as Viggo sat next to him, and afterwards Peter had taken him aside and congratulated him on the intensity and feeling he had put into Boromir’s lines. He had shrugged the praise off, embarrassed and confused by the feelings the scene had evoked, but he knew now that there was nothing better for him as an actor than having Viggo near. And there was nothing better for him as just Sean than having the beautiful man as close to him as much as possible.
He sighed and sipped his drink, letting his mind wander back to the present. And so that left him here in the middle of this blasted club, sitting next to the object of his affections and unable to do anything about it because he was too damn scared of getting hurt again. He told himself that he wasn’t even sure if Viggo was gay, but he had caught him staring at Orlando earlier in the month . . . and somehow he just knew.
Which left him no excuse, really, but he was mildly sure that no amount of alcohol would ever convince him to simply put himself out there like that. Viggo thought of him as a friend. There was warmth in his gaze, yes, but the warmth of a brother to another brother. He would just have to content himself with that until his feelings somehow faded.
“Sean. Sean. Sean,” Viggo repeated, snapping Sean out of his reverie. He restrained the urge to fidget when he realized that he had been staring rather overtly and met the other man’s gaze rather sheepishly.
Viggo laughed and waved a hand in front of his face. “It looked like you were gone there for a moment. Everything ok?”
Oh, everything’s fine. I’m just in love with you, you irresistible wanker. “Just a bit tired of the music and the . . . ah, scenery,” he said, gesturing to where Orlando and Dominic were plastered all over each other. He could see Elijah hanging off of Billy a ways behind them, and Astin was nowhere to be found.
“Hobbit sex,” Viggo said, shaking his head and grimacing. “If our legions of stalkers ever found out that any of that was true, we would never be able to get a decent day’s shoot.”
“And they say that Frodo and Sam are made for each other,” Sean added, recovering his composure somewhat.
Viggo made a face and downed the last of his drink. “And now you’ve put horrible images into my head, Bean. I guess I’ll just have to kill you.”
“You were the one who brought it up. Blame yourself for that one, Mortensen.”
Viggo opened his mouth and was promptly overloaded with a lapful of tanned skin, chocolate brown curls and alcohol-filled Orlando. “Sup, Viggy?” he slurred, making kissing motions at Sean as well. Dominic appeared shortly after and deposited himself a little closer in the booth than Sean would have normally liked. But he wasn’t paying that much attention to Dom at the moment; his eyes were focused on Orlando moving around on top of Viggo, and the barest hint of flush on Viggo’s cheeks as he looked at the younger man.
Something inside of Sean twisted, and he hated himself for it. Perhaps he was imagining it, he thought, and then dismissed the notion with disgust. He’d known and studied Viggo long enough to know that what he saw couldn’t be passed off as anything other than attraction for the sensual, doe-eyed Orlando Bloom.
This, naturally, led Sean to think about Orlando. Or, rather, Viggo’s not-so-obvious affection for Orlando, and Orlando’s oh-so-happy relationship with Dominic. He watched the two men, awareness of Dom and the other hobbits as they came to join them fading away. The way Orlando slumped over Viggo, laughing drunkenly as he ruffled his sandy hair and placed a wet kiss on his cheek and a flicker of something dark in Viggo’s eyes as he paused before shoving Orlando off of his lap.
Sean shook himself mentally and looked away, unwilling to let himself sink deeper into his thoughts. He was already in a foul enough mood; sore from shooting battle scenes all day and running on four or five hours of sleep was enough to sour his usually level temper. Add to that the fact that he had been hiking up the bloody mountain last week instead of taking the dreaded helicopters, and he wasn’t in the best of moods. Besides, these musings usually led him into a drunken stupor or way out in the New Zealand countryside until he was out of gas or patience. He had gone out with all of them tonight to avoid this type of thinking and now he was right back where he started: brooding.
He spared Orlando a short glance and was pleased to see that the young man had managed to clamor out of the booth and reattach himself to Dominic. He moved away from the drunken pair and sighed, shaking his head in amusement. No matter what grudge he harbored, he still liked the boy.
“Never a dull moment, it seems,” Viggo rumbled in his ear. “You want to get out of here? I’ve had about enough of the ‘young life’ tonight.”
Sean chuckled and slid out of the booth with him. He waved at the hobbits, sidestepped the foot Dom put out to trip him, avoided Elijah’s hands and waved at Billy and Sean before making his way towards the club entrance. He spotted Viggo lounging against the wall and grinned.
Whatever his mood, just being with the man managed to cheer him up. So he would take whatever he could get, be it just friendship, and damn his high hopes.
He just wished that he hadn’t fallen so hard already, because he knew that reality was still a long way down.
Author:
faelhachPairing(s): SB/VM, slight DM/OB
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: Hot men. Not mine. It makes me sad that none of this happened. I have no money. Please don't sue.
Archive: Rugbytackle, if you please!
Note: This is the first SV RPS that I've written by myself and the first full-length fic I've written in a long time. Be gentle. Feedback always encouraged and appreciated!
Thanks to
jennthestrange and silveryouko for the betas.Sean winced as he pushed open the bathroom door and the loud music assailed his ears once again. He stopped to watch Orlando and Dominic engage in a heated, if sloppy and very pissed, kiss with amusement before heading over to the booth Viggo had commandeered earlier. The floor shook slightly in time with the bass and he had to yell several times before his fellow man of Gondor heard him and scooted over to make room.
The older man was hunched over his drink and entirely unresponsive, as he had been all evening, so Sean left him be. He was content enough to sit back and study him, after all, and what better time to do it than when Viggo wasn’t even aware he was watching?
He grinned at the sour expression on Viggo’s face. He had been amazed that Viggo had actually agreed to go out with them tonight, but secretly pleased that he wouldn’t be the only “old man” there, as Orlando had dubbed them. And for other reasons, of course, but . . . well, that was a given.
He had never met anyone quite like Viggo Mortensen before. From the first day of production – a warm handshake and hand on his shoulder and a crushed velvet voice – to the weeks and months that brought the cast closer together – fishing, dinner, surfing, trading books, going to bars, running lines together, cracking jokes – he had known that Viggo was something special.
Just how special, however, he hadn’t fully realized until recently.
The man was just so bloody talented! There was no one else who could have played the role of Aragorn, and he had seen enough of Viggo’s other movies to know that there was a well of untapped acting ability hidden beneath his reserved surface. He truly seemed to be Aragorn, and it was a beautiful experience to watch him slip in and out of the role so fluidly. There was so much natural grace and a sense of reality in everything that he did, from his painting to his photography to his verse and back to his acting. The magazines had taken to calling him Hollywood’s “Renaissance Man,” and Sean was inclined to agree with them.
He was a grounded, humble strength that the cast would have sorely missed had he decided not to join them for this journey. The hobbits were the source of merriment on the set, and Orlando had taken to falling in with them and creating his own brand of mischief. Ian, John, and Christopher guided them all so gently and subtly that sometimes even Sean would not notice how much they influenced him and drove him to be better. Liv and Cate were gorgeous and close to everyone’s hearts; they were their princesses, and treated accordingly. David, Andy, Hugo and all the rest provided strong support and took to their smaller, yet pivotal, roles naturally. They provided a refreshing interlude when the dynamics of the Fellowship got to be too much for any one actor, and lent their ears and comforting company to anyone who needed it.
And then there was Viggo, almost lost in the sea of strong personalities and whirlwind friendships. But that was only if you didn’t know the man at all. Even upon first meeting him there was a sense of strength about him: a warm, vibrant presence that never ceased to soothe and engage you at the same time. He was reserved by nature, but if you had the interest and the time to look past his quiet exterior you could come to know the passion that lay beneath very easily.
Sean didn’t want to say that he was perfect – he had been around the block and through enough lovers, both male and female, to know that perfection exists in the eye of the beholder. But Viggo was damn near perfect, and that scared the shit out of him if he was going to be honest about this to himself. Any other infatuation that had struck him throughout his life was one that he was always able to control; he was the one who made the first move, and he was the one who usually knew when to end it.
But Viggo was different. A warm hand over his own and dancing blue eyes as he described his latest painting or other creative work. A brotherly arm around his shoulder and soft, rich laughter over a cup of coffee or late night bourbon. A giddy burst of boyish energy, usually resulting in Sean or one of the hobbits lying on the ground beside him, wheezing and laughing. And that melting, brilliant smile that so easily rendered him speechless and with the barest hint of a flush on his tanned cheeks.
He racked his brain for a bit, trying to remember the exact moment when he had realized that he wanted Viggo as something more than a friend. It was true that there had always been some unspoken element between them; they had been thrown together by their age and respective roles, naturally, and a close, easy friendship had developed quite smoothly out of that. Viggo had always been a source of comfort; he was there for him during endless shouting matches with his ex-wife on the phone about their daughters and why their marriage had failed. He was always ready with a kind word or small gesture when it was least expected. And, best of all, he never expected any more from him than the simple joy of his presence, day after day.
It took him awhile, but he was able to settle on a certain Wednesday about five or six months ago. Sean had spent two weeks previously working on the Osgiliath scenes with David, so he had been separated from the rest of the Fellowship. It had been a long shoot because Peter wasn’t sure which version of the scene he wanted to use, and extremely frustrating. There had been some strange flu going around and David, then Sean and then several of the extras had gotten sick. Once all of them had recovered they had quickly found out just how difficult it was to move around in the Gondorian armor and still manage to act the way Peter wanted. The result was a long and tiring shoot for all involved.
And so the next week he had emerged, grumpy and exhausted, from his trailer to learn that he and Viggo were going to shoot the Lothlorien scene in which he revealed what Galadriel had told Boromir. Several cups of coffee and a murmured conversation with the other actor later, Sean had felt marginally better. That was before they started shooting, however, and he realized that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other man.
He had written it off at first as the emotions stirred up by the rather intimate scene, but one thing he knew from that moment on was that there was something about Viggo that drew him in. It just took him awhile to realize that what he was feeling was first desire and then, dare he admit it, love.
He moved with an eerie grace that was highlighted by the soft lighting and ethereal scenery of the elven forest. It was easy to forget that they were in a studio on such a set, and especially on such a set with Viggo. Aragorn’s elvish upbringing was evident in the flow of his words and his body as he consoled Boromir, which was a testament to Viggo’s superior acting skills.
Sean’s body had heated slightly as Viggo sat next to him, and afterwards Peter had taken him aside and congratulated him on the intensity and feeling he had put into Boromir’s lines. He had shrugged the praise off, embarrassed and confused by the feelings the scene had evoked, but he knew now that there was nothing better for him as an actor than having Viggo near. And there was nothing better for him as just Sean than having the beautiful man as close to him as much as possible.
He sighed and sipped his drink, letting his mind wander back to the present. And so that left him here in the middle of this blasted club, sitting next to the object of his affections and unable to do anything about it because he was too damn scared of getting hurt again. He told himself that he wasn’t even sure if Viggo was gay, but he had caught him staring at Orlando earlier in the month . . . and somehow he just knew.
Which left him no excuse, really, but he was mildly sure that no amount of alcohol would ever convince him to simply put himself out there like that. Viggo thought of him as a friend. There was warmth in his gaze, yes, but the warmth of a brother to another brother. He would just have to content himself with that until his feelings somehow faded.
“Sean. Sean. Sean,” Viggo repeated, snapping Sean out of his reverie. He restrained the urge to fidget when he realized that he had been staring rather overtly and met the other man’s gaze rather sheepishly.
Viggo laughed and waved a hand in front of his face. “It looked like you were gone there for a moment. Everything ok?”
Oh, everything’s fine. I’m just in love with you, you irresistible wanker. “Just a bit tired of the music and the . . . ah, scenery,” he said, gesturing to where Orlando and Dominic were plastered all over each other. He could see Elijah hanging off of Billy a ways behind them, and Astin was nowhere to be found.
“Hobbit sex,” Viggo said, shaking his head and grimacing. “If our legions of stalkers ever found out that any of that was true, we would never be able to get a decent day’s shoot.”
“And they say that Frodo and Sam are made for each other,” Sean added, recovering his composure somewhat.
Viggo made a face and downed the last of his drink. “And now you’ve put horrible images into my head, Bean. I guess I’ll just have to kill you.”
“You were the one who brought it up. Blame yourself for that one, Mortensen.”
Viggo opened his mouth and was promptly overloaded with a lapful of tanned skin, chocolate brown curls and alcohol-filled Orlando. “Sup, Viggy?” he slurred, making kissing motions at Sean as well. Dominic appeared shortly after and deposited himself a little closer in the booth than Sean would have normally liked. But he wasn’t paying that much attention to Dom at the moment; his eyes were focused on Orlando moving around on top of Viggo, and the barest hint of flush on Viggo’s cheeks as he looked at the younger man.
Something inside of Sean twisted, and he hated himself for it. Perhaps he was imagining it, he thought, and then dismissed the notion with disgust. He’d known and studied Viggo long enough to know that what he saw couldn’t be passed off as anything other than attraction for the sensual, doe-eyed Orlando Bloom.
This, naturally, led Sean to think about Orlando. Or, rather, Viggo’s not-so-obvious affection for Orlando, and Orlando’s oh-so-happy relationship with Dominic. He watched the two men, awareness of Dom and the other hobbits as they came to join them fading away. The way Orlando slumped over Viggo, laughing drunkenly as he ruffled his sandy hair and placed a wet kiss on his cheek and a flicker of something dark in Viggo’s eyes as he paused before shoving Orlando off of his lap.
Sean shook himself mentally and looked away, unwilling to let himself sink deeper into his thoughts. He was already in a foul enough mood; sore from shooting battle scenes all day and running on four or five hours of sleep was enough to sour his usually level temper. Add to that the fact that he had been hiking up the bloody mountain last week instead of taking the dreaded helicopters, and he wasn’t in the best of moods. Besides, these musings usually led him into a drunken stupor or way out in the New Zealand countryside until he was out of gas or patience. He had gone out with all of them tonight to avoid this type of thinking and now he was right back where he started: brooding.
He spared Orlando a short glance and was pleased to see that the young man had managed to clamor out of the booth and reattach himself to Dominic. He moved away from the drunken pair and sighed, shaking his head in amusement. No matter what grudge he harbored, he still liked the boy.
“Never a dull moment, it seems,” Viggo rumbled in his ear. “You want to get out of here? I’ve had about enough of the ‘young life’ tonight.”
Sean chuckled and slid out of the booth with him. He waved at the hobbits, sidestepped the foot Dom put out to trip him, avoided Elijah’s hands and waved at Billy and Sean before making his way towards the club entrance. He spotted Viggo lounging against the wall and grinned.
Whatever his mood, just being with the man managed to cheer him up. So he would take whatever he could get, be it just friendship, and damn his high hopes.
He just wished that he hadn’t fallen so hard already, because he knew that reality was still a long way down.
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-30 08:00 pm (UTC)*maugh.* I love any description of the boys' voices (I have the worst language/voice fetish imaginable, I think), and this is great. I can hear his voice in that. *maughs again*
He just wished that he hadn’t fallen so hard already, because he knew that reality was still a long way down.
Poor Sean :( Shove Orlando off Viggo's lap and take his place, boy! *nods*
no subject
Date: 2004-04-30 08:28 pm (UTC)Unggh I know, I'm such a whore for voice descriptions.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-01 07:40 pm (UTC)*begs quietly for the next part*
~Kris
no subject
Date: 2004-05-01 08:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 04:42 pm (UTC)*g* Lovely writing. The last sentence just twists my heart. Glad you started writing this. =)
no subject
Date: 2004-05-04 10:04 pm (UTC)Can't wait to read the continuation. *prods you gently*
BTW, did you want this archived at the Rugbytackling site? Just let me know. In future, please use "Rugbytackling" in your ARCHIVE header if you want the fic archived, otherwise I won't know if you mean the archive site or just the rugbytackle community. *g* Thanks! (http://www.rugbytackling.com/index.php) ()