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[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

Again, this was written for a Drabble Challenge at adult_viggo, and following the kind suggestion from nevanoon I’d like to share it here, too.


Title: “Well Met”
Author: rifleman_s
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Warnings: None. Well, a bit of a sappiness alert, I suppose!
Disclaimer: I made it up and it’s all fiction. I intend no offence to anyone involved.
What inspires Mr Mortensen’s paintings it known only to him.
Oh! and I may have taken liberties (again!) with the dates.

Written for adult_viggo Challenge No 7.

The picture it’s actually based on is not absolutely work safe, so it – along with the story – is behind the cut.

Based on this picture:

http://community.livejournal.com/adult_viggo/32722.html#cutid1

Or if you can’t see that one, it’s the few frames before this one (use your imagination!)




”Well Met”

Sheffield, 1979:

Viggo:

So there I was in an industrial town in the north of England. In that country for the first time ever and for the saddest reason – a funeral. Some distant cousin, but my father thought someone should represent our family. I wanted to get away for a while and I’d never been to England, so I guess I got elected.

The funeral was . . . a funeral. You’ve all been to one, I don’t need to tell you. But afterwards, with still a few days left before my flight home, I really wanted some company of my own age! I wanted some fun! I wanted . . . well those stunning green eyes meeting mine in the mirror above the bar would do very nicely, thank you. As would the body attached to them. A few hours later we were sharing the bed in his cosy apartment, lying side by side, fully sated, our breathing slowing down, floating gently back to earth.

“You’re amazing. I needed that so much”.

“Not so bad yourself, Yank”.

Then it hit me – we’d never said our names! The same thought must have struck him, for “I’m Sean” he said, with a smile. Easy. Mine was a bit more difficult, though, and it had become a sort of obsession with me, recording the different reactions to my name. So, “Viggo” I said, and waited.

“Viggo” he repeated slowly, and then totally caught me out.

“Scandinavian, would that be?” he said. “You know, horned helmets, rape and pillage, ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ and Vig the god of . . . thunder?”

“God of war” I corrected, laughing at his wonderfully sharp-witted response. “And if I remember rightly there may have been pillage and some riding tonight, but not a rape in sight!”

“Touché!” he said and we drifted into sleep, smiling.

So that’s how we met and we spent three days in that apartment – three of the best memories I’ll ever have. We shared our bodies and shared our minds. We talked and talked and talked. Our lives so far . . . our dreams for the future. He played me some jazz on his saxophone and I spoke some poetry – stuff I’d written before and new words in praise of his green eyes and stunning body. I knew I’d never forget those striking, unfathomable green eyes, if I lived to be a hundred. And he laughed for ages when I told him about my first forays into acting! Of all things, he’d just been accepted into a college in London to study . . . yes, acting!

As I woke in that bedroom for the last time, I couldn’t help smiling. He was already dressing, as neat and careful as he was in all things. Even his suitcase was neatly packed. Such a contrast to my hurried, messy, throwing-together of stuff. I looked for the last time on that perfect body, gracefully outlined against the window – he was so unaware of his beauty and strength, but I was more aware than he could ever have known. We kissed quietly and tenderly for the last time, finally staring at each other’s faces, then climbed into a taxi which took him to the station and me to the airport.

The green eyes stayed in my mind for a long time and I even tried to paint them. Just a little vignette in a notebook that eventually, I suppose, got put into a pile with a lot of others . . . and life moved on.


New Zealand, 1999:

Sean:

Of course, it helped having the advantage over him. I’d read the note introducing him as the new actor playing Aragorn. And I just knew there couldn’t be more than one actor in the world called Viggo – it surely had to be him! The moment I saw the name I was 20 years old again, playing jazz to fill in the time before going off to London, and enjoying some perfect days in perfect company in that tiny flat.

So I was prepared and he wasn’t. This should be fun!

“Sean, come and meet Viggo, our new Aragorn . . .”

“Would that be Vig the god of thunder, or Vig the god of war?”, I said, loud enough for him to hear as we walked towards him.

He stopped in his tracks, stared hard at my face, then ran towards me, nearly knocking me over in the biggest rugby-tackle of a hug I’d ever known. Then he stepped back, saying “Would that be Sean the sexy sax player?”

“The same, you mad Viking!”

And we never looked back.


Christmas 2000:

Viggo:

Well it took forever to find the notebook, but it surely was worth all the time and trouble when I saw the look on Sean’s face as I gave him the finished painting, “La Selva”. I told him when I’d got the idea for it, and what the intertwining of the blue and green spirals meant. I’d wanted so much to give him this – my expression of our two eye colours haunting a saturated space that erodes tensions but insists that we live among our own accumulation of half finished stories, layer upon layer – and I had to gulp a little myself when I saw the tears form in those beautiful eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Sean”.

Christmas 2000:

Sean:

Christmas with Viggo was never going to be ordinary, was it? Not least the gift he gave me – one of his own paintings. Well that was amazing in itself . . . and what a stunning work it was! Just two simple lines of blue and green intertwined. I loved it anyway . . . but when he told me its origin, started all those years ago when first we met, I had to struggle not to break down. A gift so personal and full of meaning and memory never was.

“Merry Christmas, Viggo”.

I love the madness and life force that is Viggo and I’d do anything for him – even still indulging this little quirk he has of always wanting to watch me when I dress and undress. But he’ll never tell me why . . . “just re-living a memory” he says. Mad Viking . . .

End.

A/N: Viggo Mortensen's painting "La Selva" really exists –



The words in italics are also from the book – part of the description of the painting written by Kevin Power.

Comments

[afra_schatz]

A wonderfully smooth read. I liked it very much that they just seemed to 'click' from the very first moment on and that, even if 20 years lay between they essentially are the same people at the beginning and at the ending. This story has a wonderfully hm quiet and content feeling to it. Thanks for sharing!

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

"... they essentially are the same people at the beginning and at the ending."

I'm so glad you picked up on that - it was a feeling of continuity I was trying to achieve.

They were definitely content with each other, right from the start!

Thanks for the comment.

[seleneheart]

Nice interpretation of the meaning behind that painting!

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much . . . it was a gorgeous painting; I just felt inspired!

[koulagirl666.livejournal.com]

Iiiiiit's a small world, AAAAFter aaaaaaaaaaalll... ;)

I like how three days made such an impression that they both remembered twenty years later. Their voices are distinct and yet they work together, in some kind of harmony, much like you wrote about La Selva.

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

"Their voices are distinct and yet they work together..."

That 'harmony' was the effect I was hoping for . . . glad you appreciated what I was attempting to do! And yes, "La Selva" was indeed a great inspiration!

[brigantine.livejournal.com]

Mine was a bit more difficult, though, and it had become a sort of obsession with me, recording the different reactions to my name. So, “Viggo” I said, and waited.

I like this little game he plays. He must get all sorts of weird reactions from people - even more so when they first *read* his name, without benefit of hearing it pronounced properly.

I can imagine their first meeting in NZ, with them teasing each other straight away, and everybody else wondering what the heck they're on about. ;)

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

Excellent point! I have to admit I had no idea how to pronounce the name either when I first saw it written down, so I'm glad someone else picked up on that!! In my mind I was calling him "Viggggo" for ages before I heard it pronounced "Veeeeeego"!!!! *blushes guiltily*

Andyes, it's nice to have a 'secret' to share sometimes isn't it?

Thanks for your comments.