Green Dark by shegollum - 5/?
Aug. 17th, 2005 05:43 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shegollum.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleTitle: Green Dark
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17 (I dunno how to be a rating board, I guess!)
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con
Disclaimer: All made up in my wee little brain. No truth in it at all. Please do not even BEGIN to think that either of these much beloved men had anything to do with this or influenced it in any way other than by their undeniable hotness. ;-)
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
I would love to hear feedback please. Any and all welcome.
I'll post to the beloved archive sites in the a.m. Tired! Hope this doesn't blow! LOL...
-- shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Orlando!”
“Beanie!”
An exuberant and laughing Orlando launched himself at the older man, alternately pulling him closer and then pushing him back to get a better look. Bean looked good, he thought immediately. Damn good – all lean muscle and shaggy golden hair. He wore jeans that were worn just so and a dark button-down shirt that caused his unfathomably green eyes to shimmer.
“Damn, damn, damn,” thought Orlando, unconsciously raking his eyes up and down that muscular body before hugging the other man to him again.
“I’ve missed you, mate,” he murmured against Sean’s ear, happy to get a tighter squeeze in response.
And then Bean threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“You miss everyone like this, don’t you, Orlando? I think you miss us all so much just to make the reunions more special.” He squeezed the younger man again, running his hand playfully through the long rich brown curls.
They both laughed at that, knowing there was undeniable truth in the comments about Orlando’s lively public displays of affection. It was part of what made him who he was and had quickly charmed all of the older cast members when they’d first met in New Zealand. Orlando had always greeted the Fellowship with wildly enthusiastic embraces and had no reservations at all about climbing the taller ones – the non-hobbits, essentially – like trees if given the chance. The younger man had never been one to hide his feeling out of a sense of propriety or decorum and Bean couldn’t help but laugh with the sheer joy he found in this easy and old friendship. Thankful that the never-ending media scrutiny that surrounded Orlando had done nothing to change him, he held on for perhaps a little longer than he normally would have, holding the younger man very tightly to himself, allowing himself to enjoy the unencumbered warmth in the embrace.
“You okay, Beanie?”
He’d pulled away then, ready to kick-start his routine of shellacking over his feelings. He uneasily looked around for a server as he slid into the shaded booth near the hotel bar.
“It’s my shout, Beanie. Still drink the usual?” Without waiting for a reply, Orlando yelled for two Newcastle Brown Ales before diving into his own spot across the table from his friend, charms and the ubiquitous scarf dangling in front of him.
Once he sat and looked at the older man under the harsher light that hung over the table, he was a bit taken aback. The strong, up close light showed the tiredness around Bean’s sharp green eyes, the dark circles that underscored the lingering sadness in them. There was an air of wary fatigue about him, as though he needed nothing more than a long sleep that he couldn’t allow himself.
The older man smiled at Orlando and while genuine warmth was in it, it was not the same effortless smile that Orlando had known for so long now. He leaned forward over the table, questions right on the tip of his tongue but the moment was lost as their server appeared with two frosty mugs of ale. He was surprised when Bean immediately asked for a bottle of expensive scotch to be brought to their table but then they were so quickly caught up in asking and answering questions that it easily slipped from Orlando’s mind.
They talked about the hobbits and PJ and new projects and Sean’s girls and everything else that crossed their minds. And they drank. Orlando stuck mostly to his own ale but he shared a scotch or two with Sean as well. He was aware that the older man – a better drinker than he was any day of the week -- was outpacing him as usual, but at a rate far accelerated over the last time he’d seen him.
“Do you suppose that poor woman is still being asked what it was like to have us as houseguests?” Bean was chuckling at the thought, squinting as he tilted his glass of scotch to set off amber sparks in the rich smooth liquid.
“Oh gods, I hope not. For her sake. But wasn’t she dear? Of course, if you hadn’t been such a big candy ass about flying—“
“What? How about if you hadn’t had to shop like a little girl?” Bean countered with a roar of mad laughter before affecting an exaggerated high-pitched voice and mocking the younger man mercilessly. “Ooh…and I need twelve of these…and four of these – for the hobbits, you know! – and ooh, six of these just for me!”
They both dissolved into drunken laughter, Orlando even managing to look a bit embarrassed as he tried weakly to explain.
“But I had to shop, Beanie! It was your fucking fault. Christmas wasn’t that far off and when the hell else was I going to have time to shop? Plus, I’d already totally fucked up Viggo’s birthday present, so I had to find something less manky for his Christmas present, yeah?”
Bean stopped laughing, quietly preparing to block out the story that he knew would follow. He was becoming very skilled at these masks and Orlando never noticed the change in him.
“You’d done such a brilliant job on his birthday gift, you sly dog, and I was feeling competitive. So really,” he said, his eyes shining with alcohol and the sudden realization that with a little duct tape and more booze, he could piece together a real argument against Bean here, “it was your fault even if we were delayed because of my shopping. You never should have found him that gift. It was perfect. And I was perfectly fucking jealous, mate. You know how competitive I was then about Viggo!”
Bean focused on refilling his glass, knowing that the warmth of the scotch would help fight off his sudden chill.
“God, I was so envious of you two. You were so perfect together.”
Swallowing the liquor with no acknowledgement of the taste, Bean cut Orlando off with a voice so remote that it pulled the other man back from his reverie. His deep brown eyes focused on Bean’s sad face, his own now a mix of melancholy and drunkenness.
“What happened to you two anyway, Beanie?” he asked softly. How come you didn’t make it past New Zealand?”
The older man drew in a sharp breath, feeling the words cutting into him. They’d not been together then. Not as lovers. But thicker than thieves as the saying went and he knew many people thought they’d fallen together after Sean’s divorce.
“We weren’t together, Orlando. Not in the way you mean it. We were just mates.”
Orlando laughed incredulously. “Oh, come on, mate. You both were—“
“Don’t!” shouted Bean, startling Orlando as well as several other patrons who were surprised by the hoarse bellow. “Leave it alone. It never was.”
Suddenly the older man was standing. Swaying. But standing.
He picked up the near empty scotch bottle and looked at it for a long moment before he tilted the last of its contents into his glass and drank it quickly and without enjoyment.
“Bean, sit down. Where are you going anyway?” slurred Orlando.
“It’s late. And I’m drunk.”
“Come on then, mate. Sit back down. I’ll talk about something else. Tell me about your next project. How long are you going to be in LA anyway?”
Bean just looked at the other man, the words understandable as individual units but not lining up in a way that made much sense. He was drunk. Again. Or still. It was something that was becoming a bit habitual of late, he thought from a distance.
“I can’t do this, Orli,” he whispered suddenly, leaning heavily against the end of the high-backed bench, green eyes narrowed in pain.
“What, mate? Are you okay?” Orlando threw some bills on the table and slid unsteadily from the bench, hugging the other man sloppily and then helping him as well as he could to stand up straight, pulling his heavy arm around his own shoulders and starting toward the lobby.
“I was asking you how long you’ll be in LA, you wanker.”
Bean was struggling to make the pattern on the lobby rug behave and stay put and he only managed to sigh out his answer, “The rest of the week, maybe longer. Unless I kill meself first.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Viggo, it’s me. Hey, just heard you were back in town. Pick up if you’re there, filthy human. Um…okay. Look, Bean is in town and I thought you could meet up with us tonight. Surprise him, yeah? He was out of sorts the other night when we were out, so seeing you would be great for him. Plus you know I always miss you. You’re my favorite madman. Anyway you have my number. Call me when you get this.”
The machine clicked off and there was silence throughout the cluttered little house. Only if one listened very, very closely could they hear the faintest scratching sound of a brush stroking over canvas in the dark room down the hall.
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17 (I dunno how to be a rating board, I guess!)
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con
Disclaimer: All made up in my wee little brain. No truth in it at all. Please do not even BEGIN to think that either of these much beloved men had anything to do with this or influenced it in any way other than by their undeniable hotness. ;-)
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone.
I would love to hear feedback please. Any and all welcome.
I'll post to the beloved archive sites in the a.m. Tired! Hope this doesn't blow! LOL...
-- shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Orlando!”
“Beanie!”
An exuberant and laughing Orlando launched himself at the older man, alternately pulling him closer and then pushing him back to get a better look. Bean looked good, he thought immediately. Damn good – all lean muscle and shaggy golden hair. He wore jeans that were worn just so and a dark button-down shirt that caused his unfathomably green eyes to shimmer.
“Damn, damn, damn,” thought Orlando, unconsciously raking his eyes up and down that muscular body before hugging the other man to him again.
“I’ve missed you, mate,” he murmured against Sean’s ear, happy to get a tighter squeeze in response.
And then Bean threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“You miss everyone like this, don’t you, Orlando? I think you miss us all so much just to make the reunions more special.” He squeezed the younger man again, running his hand playfully through the long rich brown curls.
They both laughed at that, knowing there was undeniable truth in the comments about Orlando’s lively public displays of affection. It was part of what made him who he was and had quickly charmed all of the older cast members when they’d first met in New Zealand. Orlando had always greeted the Fellowship with wildly enthusiastic embraces and had no reservations at all about climbing the taller ones – the non-hobbits, essentially – like trees if given the chance. The younger man had never been one to hide his feeling out of a sense of propriety or decorum and Bean couldn’t help but laugh with the sheer joy he found in this easy and old friendship. Thankful that the never-ending media scrutiny that surrounded Orlando had done nothing to change him, he held on for perhaps a little longer than he normally would have, holding the younger man very tightly to himself, allowing himself to enjoy the unencumbered warmth in the embrace.
“You okay, Beanie?”
He’d pulled away then, ready to kick-start his routine of shellacking over his feelings. He uneasily looked around for a server as he slid into the shaded booth near the hotel bar.
“It’s my shout, Beanie. Still drink the usual?” Without waiting for a reply, Orlando yelled for two Newcastle Brown Ales before diving into his own spot across the table from his friend, charms and the ubiquitous scarf dangling in front of him.
Once he sat and looked at the older man under the harsher light that hung over the table, he was a bit taken aback. The strong, up close light showed the tiredness around Bean’s sharp green eyes, the dark circles that underscored the lingering sadness in them. There was an air of wary fatigue about him, as though he needed nothing more than a long sleep that he couldn’t allow himself.
The older man smiled at Orlando and while genuine warmth was in it, it was not the same effortless smile that Orlando had known for so long now. He leaned forward over the table, questions right on the tip of his tongue but the moment was lost as their server appeared with two frosty mugs of ale. He was surprised when Bean immediately asked for a bottle of expensive scotch to be brought to their table but then they were so quickly caught up in asking and answering questions that it easily slipped from Orlando’s mind.
They talked about the hobbits and PJ and new projects and Sean’s girls and everything else that crossed their minds. And they drank. Orlando stuck mostly to his own ale but he shared a scotch or two with Sean as well. He was aware that the older man – a better drinker than he was any day of the week -- was outpacing him as usual, but at a rate far accelerated over the last time he’d seen him.
“Do you suppose that poor woman is still being asked what it was like to have us as houseguests?” Bean was chuckling at the thought, squinting as he tilted his glass of scotch to set off amber sparks in the rich smooth liquid.
“Oh gods, I hope not. For her sake. But wasn’t she dear? Of course, if you hadn’t been such a big candy ass about flying—“
“What? How about if you hadn’t had to shop like a little girl?” Bean countered with a roar of mad laughter before affecting an exaggerated high-pitched voice and mocking the younger man mercilessly. “Ooh…and I need twelve of these…and four of these – for the hobbits, you know! – and ooh, six of these just for me!”
They both dissolved into drunken laughter, Orlando even managing to look a bit embarrassed as he tried weakly to explain.
“But I had to shop, Beanie! It was your fucking fault. Christmas wasn’t that far off and when the hell else was I going to have time to shop? Plus, I’d already totally fucked up Viggo’s birthday present, so I had to find something less manky for his Christmas present, yeah?”
Bean stopped laughing, quietly preparing to block out the story that he knew would follow. He was becoming very skilled at these masks and Orlando never noticed the change in him.
“You’d done such a brilliant job on his birthday gift, you sly dog, and I was feeling competitive. So really,” he said, his eyes shining with alcohol and the sudden realization that with a little duct tape and more booze, he could piece together a real argument against Bean here, “it was your fault even if we were delayed because of my shopping. You never should have found him that gift. It was perfect. And I was perfectly fucking jealous, mate. You know how competitive I was then about Viggo!”
Bean focused on refilling his glass, knowing that the warmth of the scotch would help fight off his sudden chill.
“God, I was so envious of you two. You were so perfect together.”
Swallowing the liquor with no acknowledgement of the taste, Bean cut Orlando off with a voice so remote that it pulled the other man back from his reverie. His deep brown eyes focused on Bean’s sad face, his own now a mix of melancholy and drunkenness.
“What happened to you two anyway, Beanie?” he asked softly. How come you didn’t make it past New Zealand?”
The older man drew in a sharp breath, feeling the words cutting into him. They’d not been together then. Not as lovers. But thicker than thieves as the saying went and he knew many people thought they’d fallen together after Sean’s divorce.
“We weren’t together, Orlando. Not in the way you mean it. We were just mates.”
Orlando laughed incredulously. “Oh, come on, mate. You both were—“
“Don’t!” shouted Bean, startling Orlando as well as several other patrons who were surprised by the hoarse bellow. “Leave it alone. It never was.”
Suddenly the older man was standing. Swaying. But standing.
He picked up the near empty scotch bottle and looked at it for a long moment before he tilted the last of its contents into his glass and drank it quickly and without enjoyment.
“Bean, sit down. Where are you going anyway?” slurred Orlando.
“It’s late. And I’m drunk.”
“Come on then, mate. Sit back down. I’ll talk about something else. Tell me about your next project. How long are you going to be in LA anyway?”
Bean just looked at the other man, the words understandable as individual units but not lining up in a way that made much sense. He was drunk. Again. Or still. It was something that was becoming a bit habitual of late, he thought from a distance.
“I can’t do this, Orli,” he whispered suddenly, leaning heavily against the end of the high-backed bench, green eyes narrowed in pain.
“What, mate? Are you okay?” Orlando threw some bills on the table and slid unsteadily from the bench, hugging the other man sloppily and then helping him as well as he could to stand up straight, pulling his heavy arm around his own shoulders and starting toward the lobby.
“I was asking you how long you’ll be in LA, you wanker.”
Bean was struggling to make the pattern on the lobby rug behave and stay put and he only managed to sigh out his answer, “The rest of the week, maybe longer. Unless I kill meself first.”
“Viggo, it’s me. Hey, just heard you were back in town. Pick up if you’re there, filthy human. Um…okay. Look, Bean is in town and I thought you could meet up with us tonight. Surprise him, yeah? He was out of sorts the other night when we were out, so seeing you would be great for him. Plus you know I always miss you. You’re my favorite madman. Anyway you have my number. Call me when you get this.”
The machine clicked off and there was silence throughout the cluttered little house. Only if one listened very, very closely could they hear the faintest scratching sound of a brush stroking over canvas in the dark room down the hall.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-18 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-18 06:08 am (UTC)I'm not a huge fan of Orlando's but I do really like him here. Sweet, funny and considerate of his friends. *pets Orli* There's a good lad. Sort those two out, will ya?
xx
no subject
Date: 2005-08-21 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-18 11:44 am (UTC)Waiting patiently for the next chapter
no subject
Date: 2005-08-21 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-19 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-21 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-19 07:24 pm (UTC)This is wonderful as always. And you're writing an especially lovely Orlando!
I reallyreally like your writing, it's the kind of story I find myself leaning real close to the monitor while reading, enjoying myself immensly. Which basically means that you need to write lots and lots more of Sean/Vig slash. ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-21 01:43 pm (UTC)and i'm doing my damndest to keep the vigbean going! ;-)
~~smoooooch~~
no subject
Date: 2005-08-23 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 08:43 pm (UTC)