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rugbytackle***This is the end of Sparring Partners and I'm feeling gloomy because I have really loved hanging with these guys for the duration of this one. Am sad now... Please let me know what you've thought of it overall. Thanks, everyone!***
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SPARRING PARTNERS - PART 18
I really hope you like it. Feedback is very much appreciated. Ciao!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Title: SPARRING PARTNERS
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Archive: Rugbytackle
Warnings: Don't read it unless you're old enough and mature enough, 'kay? Angsty, I suppose.
Disclaimer: The thoughts and feelings may exist but belong to others. Viggo and Sean had nothing to do with any of it. Not beta'd. All errors are mine alone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Previous part can be found here:
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=shegollum&keyword=SPARRING+PARTNERS&filter=all
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The kiss went on and on, deep and soulful and gentle -- and still not long enough for either man. As they dropped back against their respective seats, the hunger in their eyes spoke volumes. Each of them thought about heading back to the trailer to continue down this path, but they also knew that it was time to talk and plan and decide. And each of them saw this in the face of the other as well.
Sean looked down at the napkin he still held under his palm. Drawing a deep breath, he looked back up at Viggo with eyes full of love.
‘I want you, Vig. Fuck anyone who doesn’t understand it. I don’t care. You’re me other half somehow.” He leaned forward again, laying half across the table to kiss Viggo before he could respond, laughing a little at the end of the kiss. “Ya daft sod, don’t say it. Don’t question it. I don’t know how yet. But you’re not going anywhere.”
Viggo grinned, his heart seeming to push outward, fighting against itself. He fell into those green eyes, feeling so much love for the other man that it left him breathless. He’d never felt such a sweeping feeling of love, never seen an incontrovertible destination ahead of him. And to know that this man would risk everything to be with him humbled him completely.
“Sean,” he murmured after a moment. “Your girls. How do we protect them?”
Sean shook his head, green eyes glistening.
“I can’t, Vig. We can’t. Not entirely. But let one fucker get too close and I’ll have his balls so fast—.” Sean’s clenched fist slammed against the table. “I won’t let anyone hurt them, Viggo, and I know you know that.”
Viggo nodded and reached out his own hand to cover Sean’s tight fist. “I do know, Sean. Its part of what I love about you,” he said quietly as he looked directly into those welcoming eyes.
Sean was nodding as he looked down, brushing a rough hand across his face before looking back up. His red-rimmed eyes locked on Viggo’s. His fist opened and welcomed the hand that draped over it and he squeezed, meeting the palm with his own before sliding to where their fingers could wrap through and around each other’s. When he spoke again, it was quietly. Viggo realized without any doubt at all that this was out of respect for the words, not out of any shame or fear. He was listening closely to the quiet husky voice and realized that Sean’s Sheffield accent was coming through loud and clear, so much of part of him. It made him catch a breath and squeeze the other man’s hand harder, wanting nothing more than to slip next to him and taste the accent as it fell from his lips.
“Viggo, I love you,” said Sean, never dropping his gaze. He stopped, considering his words before he continued. “I think I always have. You just were me best mate since that first day and I didn’t know it could be more then. I didn’t. And now I can’t imagine anything less. Will you be with me? I want this with all me heart.”
Viggo got up and moved, sliding into Sean’s side of the booth and sitting next to the other man. He smiled a little as he looked at the mangled rose in front of him and then he smiled more as he looked at the man by his side. He suddenly had his hand at Sean’s face, his palm cradling an angular cheek briefly before sliding back through layered blond hair and settling at the base of his skull.
“I need to be sure you understand that I fear the same things, Sean. And I will protect your family as diligently as you will. I would never let anyone hurt your girls. Ever. Or you. I am yours.”
Viggo pulled the other man toward him, kissing him lightly and reverently on his forehead before grasping him tight in an embrace. He was lost in this touch and the new knowledge that this could all be. He buried his face deeper into the crook of Sean’s neck and shoulder, feeling those loved arms encircling him, one of Sean’s strong hands sliding up his back and resting solidly against the back of his skull.
Their joyful communion was suddenly broken by a vicious word in heavily accented English.
“Queers!”
Sean was able to look up first, seeing Maritza standing there over Viggo’s shoulder.
“Fucking faggots! Mariposa!” she screamed at them, drawing the attention of the entire pub. The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to find the source of the commotion. Maritza’s two friends swept in beside her, one grabbing at her arm and trying to turn her, the other taking her drink – a shot of some kind – away from her. Both tried to shush her but she was having none of it. The two friends looked embarrassed and they were doing all that they could to quiet the irate woman. One made an apologetic face toward Viggo and Sean.
Maritza looked from Viggo to Sean and then back to Viggo again, stepping closer even as Viggo slid from the booth and said her name quietly. Sean stayed where he was, acutely aware of the many eyes upon him and Viggo, of the harsh words thrown at them with no provocation. He was shell-shocked and angry.
Maritza was looking up at Viggo in a fury. He could instantly see that she’d had far too much to drink. He looked to her friends, asking for help.
“Can you please drive her home? Or get a cab? Here, let me pay for the cab, okay?”
As he pulled bills from his wallet, Maritza angrily grabbed at them, tearing them out of his hands even as she carelessly gouged him with her long nails. Her friends tried to stop her again, to talk to her and get her to listen in turn, but she was filled with drunken spite and anger. She slid quickly onto the bench across from Sean, flinging the money in his face as she assailed him with slurs.
Viggo’s eyes went quickly to the other man, knowing that the public nature of this scene was the last thing he needed right now. He noted right away that Sean wasn’t looking at Maritza or even at him. Instead his eyes were sweeping over the crowd, his neck craning to look behind him and then scan across the entire room, seeing as he did so that this unplanned, unwelcome drama was holding the attention of them all – the locals, the tourists, the straights, the gays, everyone. For a moment, Sean looked utterly panicked. Then he turned quickly back, finding Viggo nearby and locking eyes with him, a small, resolute smile suddenly on his lips.
Maritza’s harangue had trailed off briefly as he’d turned away but as he returned to his original position, she leaned closer across the table, drawing his full attention as she hissed, “You are disgusting. You’re sickening. And he,” – she threw a harsh look at Viggo – “is worse and will never stay with you anyway. He doesn’t know what he wants.”
She stopped with a gasp as a hand suddenly met her cheek -- gently -- more so than she deserved or expected. Sean held his palm against her face, ensuring that she did not move away from the laser-like green gaze he drilled into her.
“Not another word, lass," he said in a voice chipped out of ice. “Say whatever you feel you have a right to about me but you’ll leave him out of it.”
Dark eyes blazing with new insult, Maritza pulled back from him, still not through.
“Don’t you touch me, you faggot! You are filthy! What you two do together is filthy and disgusting,” she seethed, her once pretty face contorted with such self-righteous hate that she was barely recognizable.
In an agonizing beat of his heart, Sean knew with a painful certainty that this was something he would see again – another time or place, a different face – but he was sure it would happen. And he wouldn’t always be able to defend himself, or Viggo, or his girls either. And with such sad clarity that taking his next breath hurt, he realized that in a way, they needed to see this in order to be better than it. Someone long ago should have given this girl education in this area; perhaps she’d only ever been taught that this was wrong and in some way an abomination. He himself had had to rewire some of his own thinking lately. But this hate -- never had he felt such a vicious hate for anyone or anything.
He reached up toward Viggo, finding his hand with his own and pulling him back into the seat next to him. He twined their fingers together under the table and squeezed Viggo’s hand three measured, considered times, feeling an ‘I love you’ pass between them with each grasp.
He leveled his gaze on Maritza, suddenly tired and sad and infinitely ready for her to be gone. “What we do or have is none of your business, Maritza, nor would I try to justify any of it to you ever. But you, my dear, are well on your way to a dark life full of hate and self-righteousness and you’d do well to let it go.” Even as he said it, he was sliding toward Viggo, the other man rising first, Sean right behind him, their hands never unclasping one from the other.
Maritza started to slide angrily from her seat as well but her friends finally had an advantage and they quickly scooted into the booth – one across from her and one next to her – immediately erupting into animated conversation as they had her undivided attention at last.
As the two men started to leave, they realized that all eyes were still on them and Sean was aware of at least one small camera flash somewhere in the room. Viggo started to pull his hand away, wanted to spare Sean any more attention. He was shocked and very touched to find that Sean’s grip tightened in response and he turned to look directly at Viggo. Slowly and very, very deliberately, Sean bent his arm at the elbow, lifting Viggo’s clasped hand to his lips for a warm and lingering kiss. Viggo’s grin was spontaneous and loopy and gorgeous – encapsulating so many of the things that Sean loved best about this man that he broke into a wide smile himself, a happy laugh bursting out of him. Neither smile faded as they worked their way through the crowd and out into a beautiful moonlit night together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Several weeks later, Viggo was in France to support A History of Violence at Cannes. He avoided the parties and the cameras as much as he could and spent most his time painting and writing at a secluded house with glorious views of the city.
He was in his studio late one afternoon, not painting so much as thinking and planning what to undertake next, when he heard an unexpected knock at his door. He pulled his striped soccer shirt on over his jeans and headed downstairs, making a mental note to call Sean after he took care of whomever was at the door.
He pulled the door open and there stood the man himself, all tall lean beauty in a finely cut dark suit, a subtle green tie highlighting the drop dead gorgeous emerald eyes that looked Viggo up and down. Viggo sucked in his breath in surprise, smiling and unconsciously licking his lips as he took in the sight before him.
Sean was leaning casually – and oh so sexily, Viggo couldn’t help but think – against the doorframe, a certain Corgi puppy draped over his arm like a squiggly sack of potatoes. Sean grinned that devilishly rakish smile, green eyes on fire as he leaned toward Viggo, brushing lips against lips, sliding his free hand in between the buttons of the blue striped shirt.
“I sent me girls off to the shops,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier whisper with every word. “Lorna and Molly are taking care of Evie. And I am charged with taking care of dear Frodo Pee-pot here while they’re away. And you, if I can talk you into it.”
Viggo grabbed at him and pulled him inside, slamming him against the wall as he kicked the door closed behind him, already lost in a deep kiss. After several moments, he heard a tiny squeal. ‘Poor Frodo is getting smooshed’ he thought...a ½ second before he felt the wet warmth spreading over his hideous shirt.
# # #
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SPARRING PARTNERS - PART 18
I really hope you like it. Feedback is very much appreciated. Ciao!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Title: SPARRING PARTNERS
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Archive: Rugbytackle
Warnings: Don't read it unless you're old enough and mature enough, 'kay? Angsty, I suppose.
Disclaimer: The thoughts and feelings may exist but belong to others. Viggo and Sean had nothing to do with any of it. Not beta'd. All errors are mine alone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Previous part can be found here:
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=shegollum&keyword=SPARRING+PARTNERS&filter=all
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The kiss went on and on, deep and soulful and gentle -- and still not long enough for either man. As they dropped back against their respective seats, the hunger in their eyes spoke volumes. Each of them thought about heading back to the trailer to continue down this path, but they also knew that it was time to talk and plan and decide. And each of them saw this in the face of the other as well.
Sean looked down at the napkin he still held under his palm. Drawing a deep breath, he looked back up at Viggo with eyes full of love.
‘I want you, Vig. Fuck anyone who doesn’t understand it. I don’t care. You’re me other half somehow.” He leaned forward again, laying half across the table to kiss Viggo before he could respond, laughing a little at the end of the kiss. “Ya daft sod, don’t say it. Don’t question it. I don’t know how yet. But you’re not going anywhere.”
Viggo grinned, his heart seeming to push outward, fighting against itself. He fell into those green eyes, feeling so much love for the other man that it left him breathless. He’d never felt such a sweeping feeling of love, never seen an incontrovertible destination ahead of him. And to know that this man would risk everything to be with him humbled him completely.
“Sean,” he murmured after a moment. “Your girls. How do we protect them?”
Sean shook his head, green eyes glistening.
“I can’t, Vig. We can’t. Not entirely. But let one fucker get too close and I’ll have his balls so fast—.” Sean’s clenched fist slammed against the table. “I won’t let anyone hurt them, Viggo, and I know you know that.”
Viggo nodded and reached out his own hand to cover Sean’s tight fist. “I do know, Sean. Its part of what I love about you,” he said quietly as he looked directly into those welcoming eyes.
Sean was nodding as he looked down, brushing a rough hand across his face before looking back up. His red-rimmed eyes locked on Viggo’s. His fist opened and welcomed the hand that draped over it and he squeezed, meeting the palm with his own before sliding to where their fingers could wrap through and around each other’s. When he spoke again, it was quietly. Viggo realized without any doubt at all that this was out of respect for the words, not out of any shame or fear. He was listening closely to the quiet husky voice and realized that Sean’s Sheffield accent was coming through loud and clear, so much of part of him. It made him catch a breath and squeeze the other man’s hand harder, wanting nothing more than to slip next to him and taste the accent as it fell from his lips.
“Viggo, I love you,” said Sean, never dropping his gaze. He stopped, considering his words before he continued. “I think I always have. You just were me best mate since that first day and I didn’t know it could be more then. I didn’t. And now I can’t imagine anything less. Will you be with me? I want this with all me heart.”
Viggo got up and moved, sliding into Sean’s side of the booth and sitting next to the other man. He smiled a little as he looked at the mangled rose in front of him and then he smiled more as he looked at the man by his side. He suddenly had his hand at Sean’s face, his palm cradling an angular cheek briefly before sliding back through layered blond hair and settling at the base of his skull.
“I need to be sure you understand that I fear the same things, Sean. And I will protect your family as diligently as you will. I would never let anyone hurt your girls. Ever. Or you. I am yours.”
Viggo pulled the other man toward him, kissing him lightly and reverently on his forehead before grasping him tight in an embrace. He was lost in this touch and the new knowledge that this could all be. He buried his face deeper into the crook of Sean’s neck and shoulder, feeling those loved arms encircling him, one of Sean’s strong hands sliding up his back and resting solidly against the back of his skull.
Their joyful communion was suddenly broken by a vicious word in heavily accented English.
“Queers!”
Sean was able to look up first, seeing Maritza standing there over Viggo’s shoulder.
“Fucking faggots! Mariposa!” she screamed at them, drawing the attention of the entire pub. The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to find the source of the commotion. Maritza’s two friends swept in beside her, one grabbing at her arm and trying to turn her, the other taking her drink – a shot of some kind – away from her. Both tried to shush her but she was having none of it. The two friends looked embarrassed and they were doing all that they could to quiet the irate woman. One made an apologetic face toward Viggo and Sean.
Maritza looked from Viggo to Sean and then back to Viggo again, stepping closer even as Viggo slid from the booth and said her name quietly. Sean stayed where he was, acutely aware of the many eyes upon him and Viggo, of the harsh words thrown at them with no provocation. He was shell-shocked and angry.
Maritza was looking up at Viggo in a fury. He could instantly see that she’d had far too much to drink. He looked to her friends, asking for help.
“Can you please drive her home? Or get a cab? Here, let me pay for the cab, okay?”
As he pulled bills from his wallet, Maritza angrily grabbed at them, tearing them out of his hands even as she carelessly gouged him with her long nails. Her friends tried to stop her again, to talk to her and get her to listen in turn, but she was filled with drunken spite and anger. She slid quickly onto the bench across from Sean, flinging the money in his face as she assailed him with slurs.
Viggo’s eyes went quickly to the other man, knowing that the public nature of this scene was the last thing he needed right now. He noted right away that Sean wasn’t looking at Maritza or even at him. Instead his eyes were sweeping over the crowd, his neck craning to look behind him and then scan across the entire room, seeing as he did so that this unplanned, unwelcome drama was holding the attention of them all – the locals, the tourists, the straights, the gays, everyone. For a moment, Sean looked utterly panicked. Then he turned quickly back, finding Viggo nearby and locking eyes with him, a small, resolute smile suddenly on his lips.
Maritza’s harangue had trailed off briefly as he’d turned away but as he returned to his original position, she leaned closer across the table, drawing his full attention as she hissed, “You are disgusting. You’re sickening. And he,” – she threw a harsh look at Viggo – “is worse and will never stay with you anyway. He doesn’t know what he wants.”
She stopped with a gasp as a hand suddenly met her cheek -- gently -- more so than she deserved or expected. Sean held his palm against her face, ensuring that she did not move away from the laser-like green gaze he drilled into her.
“Not another word, lass," he said in a voice chipped out of ice. “Say whatever you feel you have a right to about me but you’ll leave him out of it.”
Dark eyes blazing with new insult, Maritza pulled back from him, still not through.
“Don’t you touch me, you faggot! You are filthy! What you two do together is filthy and disgusting,” she seethed, her once pretty face contorted with such self-righteous hate that she was barely recognizable.
In an agonizing beat of his heart, Sean knew with a painful certainty that this was something he would see again – another time or place, a different face – but he was sure it would happen. And he wouldn’t always be able to defend himself, or Viggo, or his girls either. And with such sad clarity that taking his next breath hurt, he realized that in a way, they needed to see this in order to be better than it. Someone long ago should have given this girl education in this area; perhaps she’d only ever been taught that this was wrong and in some way an abomination. He himself had had to rewire some of his own thinking lately. But this hate -- never had he felt such a vicious hate for anyone or anything.
He reached up toward Viggo, finding his hand with his own and pulling him back into the seat next to him. He twined their fingers together under the table and squeezed Viggo’s hand three measured, considered times, feeling an ‘I love you’ pass between them with each grasp.
He leveled his gaze on Maritza, suddenly tired and sad and infinitely ready for her to be gone. “What we do or have is none of your business, Maritza, nor would I try to justify any of it to you ever. But you, my dear, are well on your way to a dark life full of hate and self-righteousness and you’d do well to let it go.” Even as he said it, he was sliding toward Viggo, the other man rising first, Sean right behind him, their hands never unclasping one from the other.
Maritza started to slide angrily from her seat as well but her friends finally had an advantage and they quickly scooted into the booth – one across from her and one next to her – immediately erupting into animated conversation as they had her undivided attention at last.
As the two men started to leave, they realized that all eyes were still on them and Sean was aware of at least one small camera flash somewhere in the room. Viggo started to pull his hand away, wanted to spare Sean any more attention. He was shocked and very touched to find that Sean’s grip tightened in response and he turned to look directly at Viggo. Slowly and very, very deliberately, Sean bent his arm at the elbow, lifting Viggo’s clasped hand to his lips for a warm and lingering kiss. Viggo’s grin was spontaneous and loopy and gorgeous – encapsulating so many of the things that Sean loved best about this man that he broke into a wide smile himself, a happy laugh bursting out of him. Neither smile faded as they worked their way through the crowd and out into a beautiful moonlit night together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Several weeks later, Viggo was in France to support A History of Violence at Cannes. He avoided the parties and the cameras as much as he could and spent most his time painting and writing at a secluded house with glorious views of the city.
He was in his studio late one afternoon, not painting so much as thinking and planning what to undertake next, when he heard an unexpected knock at his door. He pulled his striped soccer shirt on over his jeans and headed downstairs, making a mental note to call Sean after he took care of whomever was at the door.
He pulled the door open and there stood the man himself, all tall lean beauty in a finely cut dark suit, a subtle green tie highlighting the drop dead gorgeous emerald eyes that looked Viggo up and down. Viggo sucked in his breath in surprise, smiling and unconsciously licking his lips as he took in the sight before him.
Sean was leaning casually – and oh so sexily, Viggo couldn’t help but think – against the doorframe, a certain Corgi puppy draped over his arm like a squiggly sack of potatoes. Sean grinned that devilishly rakish smile, green eyes on fire as he leaned toward Viggo, brushing lips against lips, sliding his free hand in between the buttons of the blue striped shirt.
“I sent me girls off to the shops,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier whisper with every word. “Lorna and Molly are taking care of Evie. And I am charged with taking care of dear Frodo Pee-pot here while they’re away. And you, if I can talk you into it.”
Viggo grabbed at him and pulled him inside, slamming him against the wall as he kicked the door closed behind him, already lost in a deep kiss. After several moments, he heard a tiny squeal. ‘Poor Frodo is getting smooshed’ he thought...a ½ second before he felt the wet warmth spreading over his hideous shirt.
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 03:11 am (UTC)LOL!
i love this story sweetie, thanks so much for sharing it :D
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 06:35 am (UTC)i do love frodo piss-pot have a decided opinion on viggos shirts. wonderful!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 12:33 pm (UTC)Lovely ending, although I agree with Ymmy that you could certainly write more of this story. There's going to be a whole avalanche of fallout from this and it could be interesting to see. Although it's also true that you resolved the main conflict and thus have finished the story. A sequel, perhaps?
Angie
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 12:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-24 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 06:37 am (UTC)*applauds enthusiatically*
One of the best vigbean's I've read. Truly an excellent fic :)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 12:01 pm (UTC)Next VigBean series now ... please ;)
*hugs you*
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 08:17 pm (UTC)Please please please keep writing this pairing. I'll ship giant vats of strawberry margharitas to you if need be. *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-01 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-04 04:22 pm (UTC)