Contrasts 3, Part 1
Aug. 26th, 2006 09:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle: Contrasts 3, Part 1
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
afra_schatz & irrlicht74
Pairing: VigBean, of course
Rating: Hm... PG, I think
Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Warning: AU!! Plus this was written as a roleplay.
Summary: Sean’s a tax consultant and Vig’s a book illustrator. They meet at a party and like each other instantly, but aren’t sure what to make out of it. Yet. ;) Hell, I do SO suck at summaries! I promise it’s far more interesting than it sounds like.
Author’s Note: SORRY we made you waiting for so long!!! It really took us AGES this time, didn’t it? I’m truly sorry.
Beta: The lightning-fasthelena_s_renn Thank you so much! *snugglehugs* We deleted a whole bunch of “smiles” and other stuff. Thanks for pointing that out.
Archive: Rugbytackling. All others, please ask.
Sean wasn't regarded as being spontaneous, except for the occasional genius whim that saved one of his clients' asses in court. He was the one who was never late for an appointment, who never bitched about any social event he had to go to because it was thought 'appropriate,' who never had food stains on his tie or dust particles on his office desk.
Yet, he stood in front of Viggo's house now - that he hadn't even called beforehand was odd enough; he didn't even need to think about the duffel bag in his car.
He rang the doorbell and buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers, waiting patiently. He was already fearing that Viggo wouldn't be at home, a thought that put Sean's stomach into a knot instantly, when he heard noises coming closer and closer to the wooden door - bare feet on parquet, almost inaudible muttering, a dull bang and a curse. Viggo opened the door with a slightly disgruntled look on his face and his hand rubbing the left side of his head.
"Hey, did we have date?"
"No."
"Oh."
Viggo rubbed his head and Sean smiled, somewhere between determined and smug, and distracted and goofy. Viggo blinked first and with the hand that was not busy with tending to his latest bruise he waved Sean in. Sean stayed where he was and instead said, "Get a few clothes and," he looked at Viggo's head, "and probably some band aids. We're going on a little trip."
Viggo blinked again. Then he turned and did as he was told. A trip? That sounded interesting. He didn’t care where to. He would see when they got there. And he trusted Sean. Oddly enough, considering the fact that he hadn’t known the tax consultant for that long. A pretty short time, to be precise.
But Sean hadn’t called before he’d gotten to Viggo. Maybe he did have a spontaneous side, then, something Vig had always guessed, but couldn’t have proved until now.
Vig threw a few clothes into a bag and grabbed his shoes. He’d rather have gone without them, but something told him he’d be better off _with_ them. He walked down the stairs back to his front door again, meeting Sean there.
“Ready. Lead the way.”
Sean beamed and for a moment feared that grinning that broadly would make him pull a facial muscle. Viggo stood in front of him with a bag and a pair of shoes at which he glanced with suspicion before looking into Sean's eyes. No raised eyebrow, no 'you're kidding,' no 'what the fuck.' And Sean beamed. His smile faltered for a moment when some thought struck Viggo and he dropped the bag in front of Sean, disappearing back into the house. All right, maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all, maybe he should at least have called and forewarned Viggo, or even asked him and not just --
Sean was pulled out of his doubts by Viggo's reappearance. Shoes still in his left hand he carried a frying pan in the right.
"Just made some scrambled eggs, figure we can take them with us."
Sean's beam was back and he picked up Viggo's bag.
They climbed into Sean’s car and started driving. Viggo hummed quietly some random melody he’d picked up from the radio and ate the scrambled eggs.
“Open your mouth,” he told Sean after a few mouthfuls of eggs.
“Is that a spoon?”
“Yes. Open your mouth.”
“You eat scrambled eggs with a spoon?”
“No. But I knew you’d be driving the car. In case you’ll have to brake abruptly, a spoon will still hurt, but hopefully won’t damage your palate. Open your mouth.”
Sean chuckled but obeyed to Viggo's so reasonably explained order and opened his mouth.
"Very considerate of you,” he said around a mouthful of food. "Sure you weren’t a nurse in your previous life?"
"Are you in any way insinuating that I'm not manly?"
Sean took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at the mock indignation on Viggo's face. The fact, that the silver spoon looked out from between his lips, didn't exactly add to the seriousness of the situation.
"Okay, okay, to be fair then I've been a secretary. I'm sure I looked fetching with one of those cute lil grey office dresses."
Viggo laughed.
“Yeah. Bet you did. Maybe we were classmates back then and took our lunch breaks together. Would explain the eggs, don’t you think?”
“Vig, the only reason for the eggs in my car is you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You decided to take them with you. And the pan. Though the pan might come in handy, I admit.”
“Spoilsport.” Viggo stuck his tongue out at Sean. “So you don’t think you had a former life?”
"Sure I do." Sean stopped at the last traffic light on the road out of town and let the window of his car down. "I've probably been a grumpy gamekeeper or a medieval warrior or a -"
"- Crazy writer thinking up very weird and not to mention random plots?" finished Viggo with a low chuckle.
"Very well,” Sean said, feeling very pleased with himself despite Viggo's contradiction. "What have I been then, huh?"
Viggo looked at Sean for a moment, measured him from head to toe – well, as far as he could look down – then said, “You were a soldier. A British officer in Wellington’s army. A very good one. Leading a company in the Napoleonic Peninsular wars. Does that sound familiar?”
"No," Sean bit his cheek to not start laughing so hard that tears would hinder his vision. "I know for a fact that they all had fleas and don’t get me started on the lice."
"So?"
"I'm very particular on personal hygiene."
"Maybe you're trying to compensate."
Sean risked another glance sideways and found Viggo concentrated on his still half-full pan again, his words spoken with off-handed self-assurance that made Sean, who definitely did not believe in that former life bollocks, feel the sudden need to scratch himself because of imagined fleas.
Sean shook his head at his odd reaction and laid his right arm on the rim of the window, breathing in the fresh late morning air.
Viggo looked out of his window and enjoyed the ride. He fed Sean some more eggs now and then and got a contented sigh in return once in a while. Vig didn’t care whether the Brit believed in former lives or not. He’d said it, because _he_ believed in it and wanted Sean to know.
They left town quickly and headed north.
Over the silent humming of his Mercedes’ engine, Sean heard Viggo's quiet actions as he proceeded with emptying his pan before putting it onto the back seat and grunting in satisfaction.
When Sean drove of the highway that lead them out of town, he saw Viggo moving out of the corner of his eye and saw the other man propping his naked feet up on the dashboard just like a kid would've
done.
Neither of them spoke; Sean concentrated on the road that lay ahead of them, a straight line through wheat fields and the occasional assemblence of a few houses.
The radio was still playing the same station Viggo had chosen when they started and they drove in companionable silence. Sean noticed that all of the songs playing seemed to fit the picture--like they were in some Hollywood on-the-road movie, listening to the soundtrack. When he realised that they could listen to anything from The Ramones to Mozart he would still feel just as happy and content and in the moment. Their music program was interrupted by a discussion now and then and Sean would've suggested changing to an all-music-station if he hadn't liked the sound of Viggo's quiet commentaries. Too quiet for him to understand much more than the tone of voice, but enough to know that Viggo was listening, hell, even participating actively. So, Sean didn't say a thing. He just went on driving and waited for the next fitting song, listening to Viggo’s murmured rambling, feeling happy.
When they reached the most beautiful landscape Vig had seen for a very long time, though he lived only a few hours away from it, he grabbed behind him for his bag, opened it and blindly searched for his camera. Sock, t-shirts, jeans, something... something else...fuck! Where was that damn...? Ah! Viggo lifted the camera. He photographed Sean first, a quick profile shot, and then went on to the landscape. It was difficult to photograph out of a moving car, but somehow he managed. Even if it wouldn’t be esspecially sharp, it would surely be interesting.
The more they drove, the more curious Viggo got. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t need to know. Sean did and that was enough.
When Viggo started fidgeting, it wasn't much further to drive. But of course the artist didn't know that, and Sean guessed that in the last five minutes he had moved more than on the entire trip before. Fiddling about with his camera, changing to sitting Indian style (however he made that possible in a front seat Sean was still not sure about), opening the window completely and closing it a short time later and rubbing his right ear, cold from the wind. Fiddling about with the radio, sitting on his heels now (Sean wished his own knees were flexible like that), opening the sunroof and grinning like a loon with his half-long hair in his face.
Sean had half expected Viggo to unbuckle his seatbelt and stick his head out of the sunroof when he pulled off the main road into a smaller lane again framed by wheat fields. He slowed his car down a bit since the pavement had seen better days. The tires made little crunching noises as they rolled over the gravel and Viggo turned his window down again.
The soft yellow of the grain ended abruptly. The plain grassland, fenced with dark wood, gave free view of the small farm ahead. Sean recognized the house's prominent gable from the photos he'd seen. He pulled into the drive and said, "There."
They climbed out of the car and Viggo made a slow three-sixty to take in the more than beautiful landscape and to inhale its unique, rich scent. Vig ended his “circle” and looked at Sean with a mixture of pride and awe. Pride, because he’d always known Sean had it in him and awe, because Vig wasn’t sure whether he could’ve thought of something so lovely.
“It’s beautiful,” he said finally, voice soft with admiration. For the surroundings and most of all for the man in front of him, on the opposite side of the car. “Thank you for taking me here.”
It seemed to Viggo as if Sean was almost blushing and did his best to find a hole in the ground to crawl into, but he smiled nevertheless. A shy but brilliant smile that made Viggo’s heart ache. Yeah, he was a softie, but what else was new?
"I'm –" so glad that you like it, I'd hoped that you do but I wasn't sure and
"It's – " a lovely place, even more beautiful than on the photos I've seen.
"I mean –" I haven't been here before either so I really hope it's not just an illusory first impression and
"You're –" gonna like it, I really hope you do because -
Sean looked up from the gravel his eyes seemed to have been glued to and found Viggo smiling. Sean rubbed the back of his nose with his thumb and told his brain to shut up and his mouth to re-consider the concept of full sentences.
"I'm glad you like it. You wanna have a look around inside? Or outside first? I think there's a stable, too and - " ’For heaven's sake, Bean, pull yourself together, you're not trying to sell the darn place to him, so shut up!’
"Let's get inside,” Sean said; thankfully his friendly resolution was almost back in place.
Viggo found this shyness and nervousness cute beyond words, but would’ve never dwelled on it. First, because he was honoured that Sean had overcome his “self-consciousness” about taking a day or a weekend off – or whatever this turned out to finally be – with another _man_ for him, Viggo. Second, because he didn’t want Sean to think that Vig thought him silly or cheesy or just ‘round the bend, because Vig didn’t think that at all. And third, because obviously this had been a huge step for Sean and Viggo was glad that he’d taken him along as a kind of “witness” to it. That aside, Vig had the strong feeling that Sean would cut himself off completely if he’d get the impression that Vig was only making fun of him for any of that. Which he wasn’t. He loved the consideration Sean had taken in choosing this place, the Brit’s seriousness about their awkward kind of friendship, the wish to do everything “right.” Vig had had lovers who hadn’t given a fuck whether he’d liked something or not. And he and Sean weren’t even lovers. Just friends. And as much as Viggo wanted to tell Sean at that very moment about how desperately he wanted their friendship to turn out to be so much more, he kept quiet and followed the Brit into the house. Vig had promised himself that mere friendship was enough. Having someone like Sean as a friend couldn’t be measured in terms of money, and if one day Sean found someone new he wanted to share his life with, nobody would be happier than Viggo, because friendship lasted a lifetime.
Just as promised the key to the house was under the large pot of flowers right next to the door. Sean rose from retrieving it with a smile because bending down had made him look at Viggo's feet. And whereas the rest of the artist seemed to be his usual calm self, looking around with interest but not a hint of nervousness, his toes were wriggling on the wooden front porch.
The wooden door creaked when Sean swung it open and revealed a large room, flooded by early afternoon sun. Tiny dust particles, dispersed by the sudden rush of air, danced in the light but Sean was happy and relieved at once to see that the house was neither too clean nor too dusty. It looked lived in and not like the weekend house, infrequently visited by its owner, that it was. Light-coloured furniture created a nice contrast to the dark wood of the floor and the staircase, and the windows were huge with a view over the broad lands. Sean let out a breath and half turned to Viggo, who stood beside him in the doorframe.
"It'll do."
Viggo touched the door lightly and took a second to admire the beautifully patterned wood, then took a look around the kind of entrance hall.
“I love it,” he said. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here. Hand me the car keys! I’ll go fetch our bags, ‘kay?”
He didn’t want to risk saying something he would regret for the rest of his life, most probably. He didn’t want to bring back Sean’s self-consciousness.
The Brit walked over to him and gave him the keys. He and Vig suddenly stood so close together that Vig would’ve had to only lean a little more forward to kiss him. He didn’t, though, but his eyes rested on Sean’s face and the dark green eyes way longer than it would’ve been necessary.
“Like your aftershave,” he whispered before he stepped back and turned around to get to the car.
Sean watched Viggo walking back to the car, his feet kicking up small clouds of sand; he inhaled deeply and more than a little shakily. Bloody hell, he felt like he hadn't eaten a thing all day and was close to fainting, like he had some kind of problem with blood circulation...
Turning back into the house, he walked past a small bar and the sight of single malt looked quite appealing. Not a good sign. Alcohol shouldn't start to look attractive before sunset and if it did, he had to either be very annoyed or very nervous. Neither of which was the case, he told himself as he took the stairs to inspect the bedrooms.
Viggo fetched their bags and the frying pan and walked back to the house. He wondered if he’d overstepped the invisible line between friendly teasing and shameless flirting already, and if the answer was yes, if he would get a chance to tell Sean that he was sorry.
Vig put the pan into the sink of the spacious kitchen and then stood still for a moment to listen closely. Steps upstairs. He nodded to himself. Sean was on the second floor, then; assuming that was where the bedrooms were, Viggo shouldered the bags and climbed the stairs.
He found Sean in the first room.
“Hey.” Viggo. said“Where should I put your bag?”
"Thanks for getting it. I don't know… here? Both guest rooms are quite alike so I reckon we don't have to fight for them like school boys."
Viggo grinned with a brilliant wickedness that made Sean sure that he'd lose in any kind of playground joust for Viggo was just too quick, too versatile for him.
"All right, I'll take the one -"
"- On the other side of the floor -"
"That one, then."
Viggo left the door to it ajar. For a brief second Sean wondered whether that was a friendly invitation or just coincidence. He shook his head - since when did he try
to interpret even the smallest things around him? Oh, yes, right, he'd always done that. All right, since when did it bother him, or make him feel so self-conscious and clumsy?
Sean caught his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, standing next to his bed with an half-unpacked bag and a worried frown on his forehead. He looked kind of stupid, he thought, and the irony behind that mingled with the worry, made him look even stupider and he had to laugh.
Abandoning his bag and still chuckling at himself he walked over to Viggo's room, knocked briefly and pushed the door further open.
"I'm gonna go and see what else this place has to offer. Care to come along?"
“Sure.” Vig dropped his bag right where he stood and turned around to follow Sean down the stairs. “You mentioned stables before. Horse stables?”
“I don’t know.” Sean grinned, and it was a carefree, boyish grin Vig instantly fell in love with. “Would you like that? I mean, do you like horses?”
“I love horses. My parents...”
“Those parents who took you to Woodstock at the age of what? Eleven?”
“Exactly the same. They worked on a farm for two years and I spent days and weeks with the horses. What about you?”
“Me? I’ve never spent weeks in horse stables. But I like horses, too, if that was your question.”
Though it seemed impossible, Vig came to love that grin even more. Just adorable.
“Well, if there aren’t any horses, maybe we can find some nearby. It must be great to explore the surroundings on horseback.”
"If 'great' covers 'Fucking hell, Viggo, why do I always get the bolting one? Help me help me aaargh' - Then probably yes."
Viggo halted mid step to look at Sean with both eyebrows raised almost up to his hairline.
"'Help me help me argh!'?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose that's what I sound like right before I fall off a bleeding horse."
"I got that, Sean."
"So?"
Viggo giggled. No, seriously, he didn't laugh, didn't bark with laughter, he giggled like a little girl. And in response Sean felt like pulling his hair or whatever schoolboys did to show their affection.
"You utter loon,” he said and settled for ruffling Viggo's hair as he walked past him in search for the stables.
Viggo stood completely still for a moment, his breath caught in his chest. And then he decided to think about all of that later tonight, because if he did that _now_, he’d probably jump Sean right in the stables. Vig took a deep breath and followed the Brit.
He was greeted with the question, “How about cattle riding?”
Cows. It was a stable for cows. Viggo chuckled.
“Well, no riding, then. I’m not good with cattle. But that means we’ll have company now and then, doesn’t it? I’m sure somebody looks after them, feeds them.”
He extended a hand and ruffled one of the cow’s coats between its ears, and smirked.
“Or are we supposed to do it?”
"No, if I remember correctly they going to pasture tomorrow. Friend of the owner's gonna lead them out."
One of the cows mooed and Sean pointed at her as if she had seconded him.
Viggo frowned. "You knew there were cattle? I thought-"
"Knew about the cattle, forgot to ask 'bout horses," explained Sean.
The frown disappeared from the other man's face as quickly as it had appeared and again he petted one of the cows heads, murmuring to it, "Still was nice to meet you, gal."
Sean watched black eyes fixing on Viggo and they were so huge and shiny he could see Viggo's face reflected in them. Viggo murmured some more before giving the huge head a last pat and turning around to Sean again. Sean shook his head, not so much because he found Viggo's behaviour peculiar but because it amazed him how the other man could focus his attention. A cow, a piece of oddly torn paper, a word in a conversation, and it was like Viggo zoned everything else out and paid a nice visit to that little world in which only he and said object existed.
Viggo smiled at him now and then walked past him, his shoulder brushing lightly against Sean's and the Brit stood there for a moment longer wondering what it would be like to be able to spent a while in that little world of Viggo's. A while, a lifetime, whatever.
Viggo left the stables and waited for Sean to follow him. They walked around the house and Viggo was surprised, but delighted to find a small pond behind it, surrounded by a few trees. The water was green and probably pretty dirty, but he saw a few ducks and coots in it, so he supposed it wasn’t lethal after all.
“It’s such a lovely place,” he said almost inaudibly and again felt the strong urge to kiss Sean, to hug him, to at least take his hand, to do _something_ to thank him for all this. Vig hadn’t expected any of it. He looked at the Brit, who was grinning broadly at him, like a child that had managed to surprise its parents, and all Vig could do was beam back at him.
His stomach growled.
Sean laughed out loud and Viggo couldn’t help but joining him.
“You’re always hungry, aren’t you? Glutton,” Sean teased. “You had eggs on our way over here.”
“Hey, you got at least half of them. Plus it was the first thing I’ve eaten today.”
"When the fuck did you get up, then?"
"Don't know.” Viggo scratched his chin. "Birds were singing and traffic was pretty low but I didn't have sun in my face. Around 9.30."
"Don't you own a clock like normal people?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
Instead of replying, Sean reached out for Viggo's left arm, pulling the shirt up so the illustrator's wrist was revealed. A heavy watch, modern through and through, lay on suntanned skin and showed precisely the right time.
"I'll do the cooking then," he decided, nodded and forgot to let go of Viggo's arm again.
Viggo didn’t mind the least bit that Sean had just destroyed his “mystic-supposed-to-be-interesting-aura” and said, “That would be lovely.”
Vig didn’t move and watched Sean staring down at his own fingers – or maybe just the watch. It was hard to tell, standing against the sun. Sean absentmindedly stroked Vig’s skin just beyond the rim of the sleeve he’d pulled up earlier and caused Viggo to shiver. He stepped a little closer, a faint breeze of Sean’s aftershave greeting him.
Viggo tilted his head and asked in a low voice, “So? What’s on the menu? And have I told you already, that I like your aftershave?”
Sean couldn't help but chuckle, "'S that mean you want to drink it as an appetizer?"
That wasn't particularly funny. And Sean knew that which made it even worse. And worse than worse was that Sean also knew that making bad jokes was tell tale sign of him being nervous. Thank God that at least the days
were over in which he had accidentally told bad jokes to the judge...though that actually couldn't have been more unsettling. Sure, it could endanger his client’s freedom but here he was making a fool of himself in front of someone he really liked and what was worse now, huh?
By now Sean was deeply frowning at how his own thoughts galloped away most ungracefully and he shook his head lightly to get rid of them. Shit, his heart was beating like - darn, there his thoughts did it again, always overanalysing things and panicking about them and -
"Bloody hell, shut up," murmured Sean with a thick Sheffield accent.
"What was that?" asked Viggo who despite his closeness obviously hadn't understood his words.
"Nothing, was talking to myself,” Sean said, smiled a little crookedly but didn't step back.
Sean suddenly looked confused and concerned and lost and a tiny bit desperate, all at the same time, and Viggo dearly wished he could’ve just taken one more step forward to close the small distance between them. To take Sean in his arms, kiss him and tell him that everything was alright. But he couldn’t. And wouldn’t. They’d been here for less than two hours and Viggo would’ve been damned if he’d ruined that now. All that this could become. Or not. The decision was Sean’s entirely and Vig would accept said decision gladly.
“Oh,” he finally replied without enlarging the distance. “Go on, then. I didn’t want to disturb you. There’s nothing so fulfilling as a good conversation with oneself.”
"Depends on whether you think yourself an idiot or not, I reckon."
"Yeah, well," replied Viggo, tilting his head to his side, "maybe that's better than constantly forgetting what one was discussing because in a conversation with myself there's no one keeping track of logic..."
"If I have to choose between being stupid and being round the bend, I'd still pick the latter, you know."
"We can switch then, I'd like to be angry at myself for a reason for a change and not just a tad confused."
"Well, how 'bout we just stick to talking to each other, so you get the idiot and I get the loon and everyone is happy?"
Viggo chuckled softly.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Again there was silence for a moment. A long moment, in which Viggo considered whether kissing Sean would be worth it to lose the other man forever, even as a friend, or not. He decided that the answer was no with a capital ‘n’, but still had to fight the urge to lean closer. Oddly enough he got the impression that Sean wouldn’t mind being kissed at that particular moment. Vig’s stomach growled, more insistent this time, and glad for the distraction, Viggo closed his eyes. He must be seeing things. Wishful thinking or such.
When he opened his eyes again, Sean was still standing right in front of him, so close that their lips were only inches apart. And he still hadn’t let go of Viggo’s arm.
“Understood,” the Brit said. “Tell your stomach it can stop anytime now. Let’s go inside. I don’t know what’s in the fridge, but I’m sure I can improvise something.”
“You’re full of brilliant ideas today,” Viggo joked and cleared his throat, when he noticed that his voice sounded a tad too husky.
"I'm British, all our cooking is improvisation. So that's not so brilliant in itself. And believe me, my cooking skills aren't either."
Sean turned around and started walking back to the house. Only after two steps he noticed that he was still grasping Viggo's wrist and was practically dragging the other man behind him. The long stretched second between realising this and bringing himself to actually let go made Sean blush. He looked over his shoulder then, saying, "I guess you'll follow me without me making sure like that, won't you? Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a control freak?"
’I’d follow you everywhere’, Viggo thought, but didn’t say that aloud. Instead he said, “Well, as long as you don’t insist on putting me on a leash, everything’s fine.”
Sean threw him another glance back over his shoulder, but didn’t halt his steps.
“Putting you on a leash? Who’d think of that?”
Viggo smirked.
“Talk to my ex-girlfriend and mother of my son. I bet she fantasised about it now and then.”
"If that's all right with you, I'll just pretend you never said that," replied Sean dryly.
Viggo just answered with that toothy wide grin of his and they went inside the house to search the kitchen for something edible. As it turned out, the fridge and the freezer were surprisingly well filled so that it took them quite some time to just choose what they'd like to have for a too late dinner / too early supper. They decided on some promising-looking marinated steaks and diverse vegetables. And before Sean could object, Viggo carried the kitchen table with the raw vegetables out onto the front porch - "too beautiful a landscape to stay inside, ain't it." Who was Sean to object?
The Brit was glad that the table put a minimum of a distance between them after they'd sat down. Not because he had anything against being close to the other man under normal circumstances, but Viggo told him a somewhat
weird story about tomatoes and the ancient Greeks (or something) and making explanatory gestures, completely forgetting the large knife in his hand. Without interrupting Viggo's tale, Sean pointed at the knife and after a second or two, Viggo caught up with him and looked at the object as if he'd never seen it before. Then he picked up a carrot and started slicing it, only to end up with the carrot in his hand now making more explanatory gestures. Sean gave it up for the moment, ate most of the cut tomatoes and pepper he'd just chopped and leaned back, listening.
Thanks to Viggo expounding like that, it turned a too-early supper into a just-in-time meal. Over supper, Sean told Viggo of his latest trip to England to visit his daughter and knew how daddy-like he had to be sounding by the way Viggo's lips curved up into a completely understanding smile every time Sean said 'Molly.'
Their trips to the museum and the zoo weren't anything spectacular but Viggo still listened so closely; Sean was almost sure the illustrator could see every detail clearly in front of his inner eye.
And he felt himself smiling just like Viggo had done when they'd cleaned the table and sat on the outer rim of the porch. The American spoke of his latest meeting with his son and how they had ended up forgetting their shoes in the park.
Viggo had this tendency to get lost on picturesque side tracks of his own stories and looked almost surprised where he ended up sometimes. Sean would give him a cue then, just a single word of what they'd originally had been talking about. And Viggo's eyes widened with recognition, he nodded slowly and picked up where he'd left off.
Sean didn't mind. Didn't mind at all, in fact, he reflected with the sun slowly setting what felt like right before them; this tendency for fascinating randomness was one of the things he loved most about Viggo.
Wait a minute. Sean frowned and for the first time in hours didn't pay close attention to Viggo's words, too surprised by his own idle thoughts. What he loved most?
Loved?
Oh.
Okay, so Viggo lost track of time and storyline now and then and ended up on the opposite end from where he’d originally _wanted_ to be, but fortunately Sean was an attentive audience and helped him out whenever he got stuck. But even one as captured in his stories as Viggo noticed when the one he was telling them to was completely somewhere else with his thoughts.
At least after a few minutes of constant babbling without getting any reactions whatsoever.
Vig stopped talking at took a closer look. Sean seemed to be surprised. Slightly shocked even. And a tad worried. Viggo frowned and tried to reiterate the things he’d said within the past, say, ten minutes, but it was difficult. He’d said so many things. And he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused Sean’s current state.
Vig extended a hand and lightly touched Sean’s shoulder.
“Sean?” he asked softly. “Are you okay? Did...Did I say something wrong?”
Sean's mind snapped back to attention when Viggo's hand closed over his shoulder. He turned his head to look at the other man, a flash of nervousness bolting through him at the concerned expression on his friend's face. Sean was quite sure his body language wasn't giving him away, too much practice in being a lawyer and lying for your clients' sake.
Still, Viggo's grasp on his shoulder tightened a little and he repeated his question, "You all right?"
Sean blinked and with that regained his ability to speak.
"Aye, fine. Just zoned out a bit, I guess."
Understatement of the year, said every nerve in his body. 'Zoning out' was when your mind drifted off to no place special, it definitely did not include having epiphanies of these proportions. 'Zoning out' definitely did not include suddenly knowing why warmth spread through his body whenever Viggo touched him.
"Y'know,” Viggo said, his voice raspy, “for a lawyer you’re a pretty bad liar.”
“Y’know,” Sean replied, a low purr spiced with excited amusement, “for an artist you’re pretty damn perceptive.”
Viggo looked up at him from under lowered eyelashes and Sean felt like he was looking right through him. Viggo knew he was being side-tracked by Sean’s reply, back to their usual friendly bantering in the middle of a serious conversation, but he didn’t press Sean.
“Rare talent, that.” Viggo finally nodded. “You think I should be making money with that? Professional fortune teller or some such?”
“You’d make a brilliant gypsy, I’m sure.”
“Did you know that my grandma was one?”
Sean looked at him disbelievingly for a second, then he arched one brow and said, “And you tell me I’m a bad liar?”
Perceptive or not, Viggo knew that something terribly important had happened to Sean within the past five minutes, but actually it wasn’t his business. If Sean wanted to talk about it, he would tell him. Vig would’ve never asked for information Sean wasn’t willing to share voluntarily.
“Hm, seems like I’m the bad liar and you’re more perceptive than I first thought.”
He kept the conversation light. It was obvious that Sean felt way more comfortable at the moment with topics that weren’t too serious.
They didn't talk much from that point on. Sean found it hard to concentrate, like he was in a room full of people talking to him and wanting something from him. Every word Viggo said, even his smallest of motions caused Sean's thoughts to become even louder, more demanding and more confusing at the same time. He couldn't focus on Viggo like he wanted to nor could he bring any sort of order into his turmoil of thoughts and feelings as long as Viggo was even only so much as sitting next to him.
Stretching his legs and wincing slightly at how stiff his knees felt, Sean finally said, "I think it's time for me to get some sleep."
Viggo hummed noncommittally and turned his head, that calm and knowing, disconcertingly handsome expression on his features again.
"I -,” for a moment Sean forgot what he'd wanted to say, too busy staring at Viggo. Then he shook himself back to attention and got up a bit hastily.
"I suppose that drive wore me out a bit. Not used to long trips any longer and all."
Viggo just nodded and said, “I know what you mean. Good night.”
He watched Sean walking back into the house and sighed softly.
It was...boring. Sitting out there without Sean was not only senseless, but also damn boring. Viggo closed his eyes. That was ridiculous. Not _once_ in his life had he found “stargazing” boring. There were so many new stars, new constellations to see, so many beautiful sights, with the moon next to one particular bright star or some clouds getting in the way. It changed every night, like TV, only better. And it didn’t get worse, only because Sean wasn’t there with him to watch.
Should he have said something? Should he have more pressed the issue? No, it wouldn’t have been right. Vig never put pressure on people. Especially not on such...difficult matters. Sean needed time. Hell, he’d needed fucking _years_ to finally come to terms with it. Okay, he’d been much younger than Sean was now, but maybe that had made things only easier instead of more difficult. Viggo shook his head and scowled up to the clear night sky as if it was to blame for the whole mess. Then he sighed and got up. No use spending more time out here. His mood wouldn’t lighten anyway.
TBC
A/N: The first two parts can be found atdas_moor or THERE.
Authors:
afra_schatz & irrlicht74Pairing: VigBean, of course
Rating: Hm... PG, I think
Disclaimer: All made up. Not making money with it. Yaddayadda...
Warning: AU!! Plus this was written as a roleplay.
Summary: Sean’s a tax consultant and Vig’s a book illustrator. They meet at a party and like each other instantly, but aren’t sure what to make out of it. Yet. ;) Hell, I do SO suck at summaries! I promise it’s far more interesting than it sounds like.
Author’s Note: SORRY we made you waiting for so long!!! It really took us AGES this time, didn’t it? I’m truly sorry.
Beta: The lightning-fast
helena_s_renn Thank you so much! *snugglehugs* We deleted a whole bunch of “smiles” and other stuff. Thanks for pointing that out. Archive: Rugbytackling. All others, please ask.
Sean wasn't regarded as being spontaneous, except for the occasional genius whim that saved one of his clients' asses in court. He was the one who was never late for an appointment, who never bitched about any social event he had to go to because it was thought 'appropriate,' who never had food stains on his tie or dust particles on his office desk.
Yet, he stood in front of Viggo's house now - that he hadn't even called beforehand was odd enough; he didn't even need to think about the duffel bag in his car.
He rang the doorbell and buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers, waiting patiently. He was already fearing that Viggo wouldn't be at home, a thought that put Sean's stomach into a knot instantly, when he heard noises coming closer and closer to the wooden door - bare feet on parquet, almost inaudible muttering, a dull bang and a curse. Viggo opened the door with a slightly disgruntled look on his face and his hand rubbing the left side of his head.
"Hey, did we have date?"
"No."
"Oh."
Viggo rubbed his head and Sean smiled, somewhere between determined and smug, and distracted and goofy. Viggo blinked first and with the hand that was not busy with tending to his latest bruise he waved Sean in. Sean stayed where he was and instead said, "Get a few clothes and," he looked at Viggo's head, "and probably some band aids. We're going on a little trip."
Viggo blinked again. Then he turned and did as he was told. A trip? That sounded interesting. He didn’t care where to. He would see when they got there. And he trusted Sean. Oddly enough, considering the fact that he hadn’t known the tax consultant for that long. A pretty short time, to be precise.
But Sean hadn’t called before he’d gotten to Viggo. Maybe he did have a spontaneous side, then, something Vig had always guessed, but couldn’t have proved until now.
Vig threw a few clothes into a bag and grabbed his shoes. He’d rather have gone without them, but something told him he’d be better off _with_ them. He walked down the stairs back to his front door again, meeting Sean there.
“Ready. Lead the way.”
Sean beamed and for a moment feared that grinning that broadly would make him pull a facial muscle. Viggo stood in front of him with a bag and a pair of shoes at which he glanced with suspicion before looking into Sean's eyes. No raised eyebrow, no 'you're kidding,' no 'what the fuck.' And Sean beamed. His smile faltered for a moment when some thought struck Viggo and he dropped the bag in front of Sean, disappearing back into the house. All right, maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all, maybe he should at least have called and forewarned Viggo, or even asked him and not just --
Sean was pulled out of his doubts by Viggo's reappearance. Shoes still in his left hand he carried a frying pan in the right.
"Just made some scrambled eggs, figure we can take them with us."
Sean's beam was back and he picked up Viggo's bag.
They climbed into Sean’s car and started driving. Viggo hummed quietly some random melody he’d picked up from the radio and ate the scrambled eggs.
“Open your mouth,” he told Sean after a few mouthfuls of eggs.
“Is that a spoon?”
“Yes. Open your mouth.”
“You eat scrambled eggs with a spoon?”
“No. But I knew you’d be driving the car. In case you’ll have to brake abruptly, a spoon will still hurt, but hopefully won’t damage your palate. Open your mouth.”
Sean chuckled but obeyed to Viggo's so reasonably explained order and opened his mouth.
"Very considerate of you,” he said around a mouthful of food. "Sure you weren’t a nurse in your previous life?"
"Are you in any way insinuating that I'm not manly?"
Sean took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at the mock indignation on Viggo's face. The fact, that the silver spoon looked out from between his lips, didn't exactly add to the seriousness of the situation.
"Okay, okay, to be fair then I've been a secretary. I'm sure I looked fetching with one of those cute lil grey office dresses."
Viggo laughed.
“Yeah. Bet you did. Maybe we were classmates back then and took our lunch breaks together. Would explain the eggs, don’t you think?”
“Vig, the only reason for the eggs in my car is you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You decided to take them with you. And the pan. Though the pan might come in handy, I admit.”
“Spoilsport.” Viggo stuck his tongue out at Sean. “So you don’t think you had a former life?”
"Sure I do." Sean stopped at the last traffic light on the road out of town and let the window of his car down. "I've probably been a grumpy gamekeeper or a medieval warrior or a -"
"- Crazy writer thinking up very weird and not to mention random plots?" finished Viggo with a low chuckle.
"Very well,” Sean said, feeling very pleased with himself despite Viggo's contradiction. "What have I been then, huh?"
Viggo looked at Sean for a moment, measured him from head to toe – well, as far as he could look down – then said, “You were a soldier. A British officer in Wellington’s army. A very good one. Leading a company in the Napoleonic Peninsular wars. Does that sound familiar?”
"No," Sean bit his cheek to not start laughing so hard that tears would hinder his vision. "I know for a fact that they all had fleas and don’t get me started on the lice."
"So?"
"I'm very particular on personal hygiene."
"Maybe you're trying to compensate."
Sean risked another glance sideways and found Viggo concentrated on his still half-full pan again, his words spoken with off-handed self-assurance that made Sean, who definitely did not believe in that former life bollocks, feel the sudden need to scratch himself because of imagined fleas.
Sean shook his head at his odd reaction and laid his right arm on the rim of the window, breathing in the fresh late morning air.
Viggo looked out of his window and enjoyed the ride. He fed Sean some more eggs now and then and got a contented sigh in return once in a while. Vig didn’t care whether the Brit believed in former lives or not. He’d said it, because _he_ believed in it and wanted Sean to know.
They left town quickly and headed north.
Over the silent humming of his Mercedes’ engine, Sean heard Viggo's quiet actions as he proceeded with emptying his pan before putting it onto the back seat and grunting in satisfaction.
When Sean drove of the highway that lead them out of town, he saw Viggo moving out of the corner of his eye and saw the other man propping his naked feet up on the dashboard just like a kid would've
done.
Neither of them spoke; Sean concentrated on the road that lay ahead of them, a straight line through wheat fields and the occasional assemblence of a few houses.
The radio was still playing the same station Viggo had chosen when they started and they drove in companionable silence. Sean noticed that all of the songs playing seemed to fit the picture--like they were in some Hollywood on-the-road movie, listening to the soundtrack. When he realised that they could listen to anything from The Ramones to Mozart he would still feel just as happy and content and in the moment. Their music program was interrupted by a discussion now and then and Sean would've suggested changing to an all-music-station if he hadn't liked the sound of Viggo's quiet commentaries. Too quiet for him to understand much more than the tone of voice, but enough to know that Viggo was listening, hell, even participating actively. So, Sean didn't say a thing. He just went on driving and waited for the next fitting song, listening to Viggo’s murmured rambling, feeling happy.
When they reached the most beautiful landscape Vig had seen for a very long time, though he lived only a few hours away from it, he grabbed behind him for his bag, opened it and blindly searched for his camera. Sock, t-shirts, jeans, something... something else...fuck! Where was that damn...? Ah! Viggo lifted the camera. He photographed Sean first, a quick profile shot, and then went on to the landscape. It was difficult to photograph out of a moving car, but somehow he managed. Even if it wouldn’t be esspecially sharp, it would surely be interesting.
The more they drove, the more curious Viggo got. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t need to know. Sean did and that was enough.
When Viggo started fidgeting, it wasn't much further to drive. But of course the artist didn't know that, and Sean guessed that in the last five minutes he had moved more than on the entire trip before. Fiddling about with his camera, changing to sitting Indian style (however he made that possible in a front seat Sean was still not sure about), opening the window completely and closing it a short time later and rubbing his right ear, cold from the wind. Fiddling about with the radio, sitting on his heels now (Sean wished his own knees were flexible like that), opening the sunroof and grinning like a loon with his half-long hair in his face.
Sean had half expected Viggo to unbuckle his seatbelt and stick his head out of the sunroof when he pulled off the main road into a smaller lane again framed by wheat fields. He slowed his car down a bit since the pavement had seen better days. The tires made little crunching noises as they rolled over the gravel and Viggo turned his window down again.
The soft yellow of the grain ended abruptly. The plain grassland, fenced with dark wood, gave free view of the small farm ahead. Sean recognized the house's prominent gable from the photos he'd seen. He pulled into the drive and said, "There."
They climbed out of the car and Viggo made a slow three-sixty to take in the more than beautiful landscape and to inhale its unique, rich scent. Vig ended his “circle” and looked at Sean with a mixture of pride and awe. Pride, because he’d always known Sean had it in him and awe, because Vig wasn’t sure whether he could’ve thought of something so lovely.
“It’s beautiful,” he said finally, voice soft with admiration. For the surroundings and most of all for the man in front of him, on the opposite side of the car. “Thank you for taking me here.”
It seemed to Viggo as if Sean was almost blushing and did his best to find a hole in the ground to crawl into, but he smiled nevertheless. A shy but brilliant smile that made Viggo’s heart ache. Yeah, he was a softie, but what else was new?
"I'm –" so glad that you like it, I'd hoped that you do but I wasn't sure and
"It's – " a lovely place, even more beautiful than on the photos I've seen.
"I mean –" I haven't been here before either so I really hope it's not just an illusory first impression and
"You're –" gonna like it, I really hope you do because -
Sean looked up from the gravel his eyes seemed to have been glued to and found Viggo smiling. Sean rubbed the back of his nose with his thumb and told his brain to shut up and his mouth to re-consider the concept of full sentences.
"I'm glad you like it. You wanna have a look around inside? Or outside first? I think there's a stable, too and - " ’For heaven's sake, Bean, pull yourself together, you're not trying to sell the darn place to him, so shut up!’
"Let's get inside,” Sean said; thankfully his friendly resolution was almost back in place.
Viggo found this shyness and nervousness cute beyond words, but would’ve never dwelled on it. First, because he was honoured that Sean had overcome his “self-consciousness” about taking a day or a weekend off – or whatever this turned out to finally be – with another _man_ for him, Viggo. Second, because he didn’t want Sean to think that Vig thought him silly or cheesy or just ‘round the bend, because Vig didn’t think that at all. And third, because obviously this had been a huge step for Sean and Viggo was glad that he’d taken him along as a kind of “witness” to it. That aside, Vig had the strong feeling that Sean would cut himself off completely if he’d get the impression that Vig was only making fun of him for any of that. Which he wasn’t. He loved the consideration Sean had taken in choosing this place, the Brit’s seriousness about their awkward kind of friendship, the wish to do everything “right.” Vig had had lovers who hadn’t given a fuck whether he’d liked something or not. And he and Sean weren’t even lovers. Just friends. And as much as Viggo wanted to tell Sean at that very moment about how desperately he wanted their friendship to turn out to be so much more, he kept quiet and followed the Brit into the house. Vig had promised himself that mere friendship was enough. Having someone like Sean as a friend couldn’t be measured in terms of money, and if one day Sean found someone new he wanted to share his life with, nobody would be happier than Viggo, because friendship lasted a lifetime.
Just as promised the key to the house was under the large pot of flowers right next to the door. Sean rose from retrieving it with a smile because bending down had made him look at Viggo's feet. And whereas the rest of the artist seemed to be his usual calm self, looking around with interest but not a hint of nervousness, his toes were wriggling on the wooden front porch.
The wooden door creaked when Sean swung it open and revealed a large room, flooded by early afternoon sun. Tiny dust particles, dispersed by the sudden rush of air, danced in the light but Sean was happy and relieved at once to see that the house was neither too clean nor too dusty. It looked lived in and not like the weekend house, infrequently visited by its owner, that it was. Light-coloured furniture created a nice contrast to the dark wood of the floor and the staircase, and the windows were huge with a view over the broad lands. Sean let out a breath and half turned to Viggo, who stood beside him in the doorframe.
"It'll do."
Viggo touched the door lightly and took a second to admire the beautifully patterned wood, then took a look around the kind of entrance hall.
“I love it,” he said. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here. Hand me the car keys! I’ll go fetch our bags, ‘kay?”
He didn’t want to risk saying something he would regret for the rest of his life, most probably. He didn’t want to bring back Sean’s self-consciousness.
The Brit walked over to him and gave him the keys. He and Vig suddenly stood so close together that Vig would’ve had to only lean a little more forward to kiss him. He didn’t, though, but his eyes rested on Sean’s face and the dark green eyes way longer than it would’ve been necessary.
“Like your aftershave,” he whispered before he stepped back and turned around to get to the car.
Sean watched Viggo walking back to the car, his feet kicking up small clouds of sand; he inhaled deeply and more than a little shakily. Bloody hell, he felt like he hadn't eaten a thing all day and was close to fainting, like he had some kind of problem with blood circulation...
Turning back into the house, he walked past a small bar and the sight of single malt looked quite appealing. Not a good sign. Alcohol shouldn't start to look attractive before sunset and if it did, he had to either be very annoyed or very nervous. Neither of which was the case, he told himself as he took the stairs to inspect the bedrooms.
Viggo fetched their bags and the frying pan and walked back to the house. He wondered if he’d overstepped the invisible line between friendly teasing and shameless flirting already, and if the answer was yes, if he would get a chance to tell Sean that he was sorry.
Vig put the pan into the sink of the spacious kitchen and then stood still for a moment to listen closely. Steps upstairs. He nodded to himself. Sean was on the second floor, then; assuming that was where the bedrooms were, Viggo shouldered the bags and climbed the stairs.
He found Sean in the first room.
“Hey.” Viggo. said“Where should I put your bag?”
"Thanks for getting it. I don't know… here? Both guest rooms are quite alike so I reckon we don't have to fight for them like school boys."
Viggo grinned with a brilliant wickedness that made Sean sure that he'd lose in any kind of playground joust for Viggo was just too quick, too versatile for him.
"All right, I'll take the one -"
"- On the other side of the floor -"
"That one, then."
Viggo left the door to it ajar. For a brief second Sean wondered whether that was a friendly invitation or just coincidence. He shook his head - since when did he try
to interpret even the smallest things around him? Oh, yes, right, he'd always done that. All right, since when did it bother him, or make him feel so self-conscious and clumsy?
Sean caught his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, standing next to his bed with an half-unpacked bag and a worried frown on his forehead. He looked kind of stupid, he thought, and the irony behind that mingled with the worry, made him look even stupider and he had to laugh.
Abandoning his bag and still chuckling at himself he walked over to Viggo's room, knocked briefly and pushed the door further open.
"I'm gonna go and see what else this place has to offer. Care to come along?"
“Sure.” Vig dropped his bag right where he stood and turned around to follow Sean down the stairs. “You mentioned stables before. Horse stables?”
“I don’t know.” Sean grinned, and it was a carefree, boyish grin Vig instantly fell in love with. “Would you like that? I mean, do you like horses?”
“I love horses. My parents...”
“Those parents who took you to Woodstock at the age of what? Eleven?”
“Exactly the same. They worked on a farm for two years and I spent days and weeks with the horses. What about you?”
“Me? I’ve never spent weeks in horse stables. But I like horses, too, if that was your question.”
Though it seemed impossible, Vig came to love that grin even more. Just adorable.
“Well, if there aren’t any horses, maybe we can find some nearby. It must be great to explore the surroundings on horseback.”
"If 'great' covers 'Fucking hell, Viggo, why do I always get the bolting one? Help me help me aaargh' - Then probably yes."
Viggo halted mid step to look at Sean with both eyebrows raised almost up to his hairline.
"'Help me help me argh!'?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose that's what I sound like right before I fall off a bleeding horse."
"I got that, Sean."
"So?"
Viggo giggled. No, seriously, he didn't laugh, didn't bark with laughter, he giggled like a little girl. And in response Sean felt like pulling his hair or whatever schoolboys did to show their affection.
"You utter loon,” he said and settled for ruffling Viggo's hair as he walked past him in search for the stables.
Viggo stood completely still for a moment, his breath caught in his chest. And then he decided to think about all of that later tonight, because if he did that _now_, he’d probably jump Sean right in the stables. Vig took a deep breath and followed the Brit.
He was greeted with the question, “How about cattle riding?”
Cows. It was a stable for cows. Viggo chuckled.
“Well, no riding, then. I’m not good with cattle. But that means we’ll have company now and then, doesn’t it? I’m sure somebody looks after them, feeds them.”
He extended a hand and ruffled one of the cow’s coats between its ears, and smirked.
“Or are we supposed to do it?”
"No, if I remember correctly they going to pasture tomorrow. Friend of the owner's gonna lead them out."
One of the cows mooed and Sean pointed at her as if she had seconded him.
Viggo frowned. "You knew there were cattle? I thought-"
"Knew about the cattle, forgot to ask 'bout horses," explained Sean.
The frown disappeared from the other man's face as quickly as it had appeared and again he petted one of the cows heads, murmuring to it, "Still was nice to meet you, gal."
Sean watched black eyes fixing on Viggo and they were so huge and shiny he could see Viggo's face reflected in them. Viggo murmured some more before giving the huge head a last pat and turning around to Sean again. Sean shook his head, not so much because he found Viggo's behaviour peculiar but because it amazed him how the other man could focus his attention. A cow, a piece of oddly torn paper, a word in a conversation, and it was like Viggo zoned everything else out and paid a nice visit to that little world in which only he and said object existed.
Viggo smiled at him now and then walked past him, his shoulder brushing lightly against Sean's and the Brit stood there for a moment longer wondering what it would be like to be able to spent a while in that little world of Viggo's. A while, a lifetime, whatever.
Viggo left the stables and waited for Sean to follow him. They walked around the house and Viggo was surprised, but delighted to find a small pond behind it, surrounded by a few trees. The water was green and probably pretty dirty, but he saw a few ducks and coots in it, so he supposed it wasn’t lethal after all.
“It’s such a lovely place,” he said almost inaudibly and again felt the strong urge to kiss Sean, to hug him, to at least take his hand, to do _something_ to thank him for all this. Vig hadn’t expected any of it. He looked at the Brit, who was grinning broadly at him, like a child that had managed to surprise its parents, and all Vig could do was beam back at him.
His stomach growled.
Sean laughed out loud and Viggo couldn’t help but joining him.
“You’re always hungry, aren’t you? Glutton,” Sean teased. “You had eggs on our way over here.”
“Hey, you got at least half of them. Plus it was the first thing I’ve eaten today.”
"When the fuck did you get up, then?"
"Don't know.” Viggo scratched his chin. "Birds were singing and traffic was pretty low but I didn't have sun in my face. Around 9.30."
"Don't you own a clock like normal people?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
Instead of replying, Sean reached out for Viggo's left arm, pulling the shirt up so the illustrator's wrist was revealed. A heavy watch, modern through and through, lay on suntanned skin and showed precisely the right time.
"I'll do the cooking then," he decided, nodded and forgot to let go of Viggo's arm again.
Viggo didn’t mind the least bit that Sean had just destroyed his “mystic-supposed-to-be-interesting-aura” and said, “That would be lovely.”
Vig didn’t move and watched Sean staring down at his own fingers – or maybe just the watch. It was hard to tell, standing against the sun. Sean absentmindedly stroked Vig’s skin just beyond the rim of the sleeve he’d pulled up earlier and caused Viggo to shiver. He stepped a little closer, a faint breeze of Sean’s aftershave greeting him.
Viggo tilted his head and asked in a low voice, “So? What’s on the menu? And have I told you already, that I like your aftershave?”
Sean couldn't help but chuckle, "'S that mean you want to drink it as an appetizer?"
That wasn't particularly funny. And Sean knew that which made it even worse. And worse than worse was that Sean also knew that making bad jokes was tell tale sign of him being nervous. Thank God that at least the days
were over in which he had accidentally told bad jokes to the judge...though that actually couldn't have been more unsettling. Sure, it could endanger his client’s freedom but here he was making a fool of himself in front of someone he really liked and what was worse now, huh?
By now Sean was deeply frowning at how his own thoughts galloped away most ungracefully and he shook his head lightly to get rid of them. Shit, his heart was beating like - darn, there his thoughts did it again, always overanalysing things and panicking about them and -
"Bloody hell, shut up," murmured Sean with a thick Sheffield accent.
"What was that?" asked Viggo who despite his closeness obviously hadn't understood his words.
"Nothing, was talking to myself,” Sean said, smiled a little crookedly but didn't step back.
Sean suddenly looked confused and concerned and lost and a tiny bit desperate, all at the same time, and Viggo dearly wished he could’ve just taken one more step forward to close the small distance between them. To take Sean in his arms, kiss him and tell him that everything was alright. But he couldn’t. And wouldn’t. They’d been here for less than two hours and Viggo would’ve been damned if he’d ruined that now. All that this could become. Or not. The decision was Sean’s entirely and Vig would accept said decision gladly.
“Oh,” he finally replied without enlarging the distance. “Go on, then. I didn’t want to disturb you. There’s nothing so fulfilling as a good conversation with oneself.”
"Depends on whether you think yourself an idiot or not, I reckon."
"Yeah, well," replied Viggo, tilting his head to his side, "maybe that's better than constantly forgetting what one was discussing because in a conversation with myself there's no one keeping track of logic..."
"If I have to choose between being stupid and being round the bend, I'd still pick the latter, you know."
"We can switch then, I'd like to be angry at myself for a reason for a change and not just a tad confused."
"Well, how 'bout we just stick to talking to each other, so you get the idiot and I get the loon and everyone is happy?"
Viggo chuckled softly.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Again there was silence for a moment. A long moment, in which Viggo considered whether kissing Sean would be worth it to lose the other man forever, even as a friend, or not. He decided that the answer was no with a capital ‘n’, but still had to fight the urge to lean closer. Oddly enough he got the impression that Sean wouldn’t mind being kissed at that particular moment. Vig’s stomach growled, more insistent this time, and glad for the distraction, Viggo closed his eyes. He must be seeing things. Wishful thinking or such.
When he opened his eyes again, Sean was still standing right in front of him, so close that their lips were only inches apart. And he still hadn’t let go of Viggo’s arm.
“Understood,” the Brit said. “Tell your stomach it can stop anytime now. Let’s go inside. I don’t know what’s in the fridge, but I’m sure I can improvise something.”
“You’re full of brilliant ideas today,” Viggo joked and cleared his throat, when he noticed that his voice sounded a tad too husky.
"I'm British, all our cooking is improvisation. So that's not so brilliant in itself. And believe me, my cooking skills aren't either."
Sean turned around and started walking back to the house. Only after two steps he noticed that he was still grasping Viggo's wrist and was practically dragging the other man behind him. The long stretched second between realising this and bringing himself to actually let go made Sean blush. He looked over his shoulder then, saying, "I guess you'll follow me without me making sure like that, won't you? Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a control freak?"
’I’d follow you everywhere’, Viggo thought, but didn’t say that aloud. Instead he said, “Well, as long as you don’t insist on putting me on a leash, everything’s fine.”
Sean threw him another glance back over his shoulder, but didn’t halt his steps.
“Putting you on a leash? Who’d think of that?”
Viggo smirked.
“Talk to my ex-girlfriend and mother of my son. I bet she fantasised about it now and then.”
"If that's all right with you, I'll just pretend you never said that," replied Sean dryly.
Viggo just answered with that toothy wide grin of his and they went inside the house to search the kitchen for something edible. As it turned out, the fridge and the freezer were surprisingly well filled so that it took them quite some time to just choose what they'd like to have for a too late dinner / too early supper. They decided on some promising-looking marinated steaks and diverse vegetables. And before Sean could object, Viggo carried the kitchen table with the raw vegetables out onto the front porch - "too beautiful a landscape to stay inside, ain't it." Who was Sean to object?
The Brit was glad that the table put a minimum of a distance between them after they'd sat down. Not because he had anything against being close to the other man under normal circumstances, but Viggo told him a somewhat
weird story about tomatoes and the ancient Greeks (or something) and making explanatory gestures, completely forgetting the large knife in his hand. Without interrupting Viggo's tale, Sean pointed at the knife and after a second or two, Viggo caught up with him and looked at the object as if he'd never seen it before. Then he picked up a carrot and started slicing it, only to end up with the carrot in his hand now making more explanatory gestures. Sean gave it up for the moment, ate most of the cut tomatoes and pepper he'd just chopped and leaned back, listening.
Thanks to Viggo expounding like that, it turned a too-early supper into a just-in-time meal. Over supper, Sean told Viggo of his latest trip to England to visit his daughter and knew how daddy-like he had to be sounding by the way Viggo's lips curved up into a completely understanding smile every time Sean said 'Molly.'
Their trips to the museum and the zoo weren't anything spectacular but Viggo still listened so closely; Sean was almost sure the illustrator could see every detail clearly in front of his inner eye.
And he felt himself smiling just like Viggo had done when they'd cleaned the table and sat on the outer rim of the porch. The American spoke of his latest meeting with his son and how they had ended up forgetting their shoes in the park.
Viggo had this tendency to get lost on picturesque side tracks of his own stories and looked almost surprised where he ended up sometimes. Sean would give him a cue then, just a single word of what they'd originally had been talking about. And Viggo's eyes widened with recognition, he nodded slowly and picked up where he'd left off.
Sean didn't mind. Didn't mind at all, in fact, he reflected with the sun slowly setting what felt like right before them; this tendency for fascinating randomness was one of the things he loved most about Viggo.
Wait a minute. Sean frowned and for the first time in hours didn't pay close attention to Viggo's words, too surprised by his own idle thoughts. What he loved most?
Loved?
Oh.
Okay, so Viggo lost track of time and storyline now and then and ended up on the opposite end from where he’d originally _wanted_ to be, but fortunately Sean was an attentive audience and helped him out whenever he got stuck. But even one as captured in his stories as Viggo noticed when the one he was telling them to was completely somewhere else with his thoughts.
At least after a few minutes of constant babbling without getting any reactions whatsoever.
Vig stopped talking at took a closer look. Sean seemed to be surprised. Slightly shocked even. And a tad worried. Viggo frowned and tried to reiterate the things he’d said within the past, say, ten minutes, but it was difficult. He’d said so many things. And he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused Sean’s current state.
Vig extended a hand and lightly touched Sean’s shoulder.
“Sean?” he asked softly. “Are you okay? Did...Did I say something wrong?”
Sean's mind snapped back to attention when Viggo's hand closed over his shoulder. He turned his head to look at the other man, a flash of nervousness bolting through him at the concerned expression on his friend's face. Sean was quite sure his body language wasn't giving him away, too much practice in being a lawyer and lying for your clients' sake.
Still, Viggo's grasp on his shoulder tightened a little and he repeated his question, "You all right?"
Sean blinked and with that regained his ability to speak.
"Aye, fine. Just zoned out a bit, I guess."
Understatement of the year, said every nerve in his body. 'Zoning out' was when your mind drifted off to no place special, it definitely did not include having epiphanies of these proportions. 'Zoning out' definitely did not include suddenly knowing why warmth spread through his body whenever Viggo touched him.
"Y'know,” Viggo said, his voice raspy, “for a lawyer you’re a pretty bad liar.”
“Y’know,” Sean replied, a low purr spiced with excited amusement, “for an artist you’re pretty damn perceptive.”
Viggo looked up at him from under lowered eyelashes and Sean felt like he was looking right through him. Viggo knew he was being side-tracked by Sean’s reply, back to their usual friendly bantering in the middle of a serious conversation, but he didn’t press Sean.
“Rare talent, that.” Viggo finally nodded. “You think I should be making money with that? Professional fortune teller or some such?”
“You’d make a brilliant gypsy, I’m sure.”
“Did you know that my grandma was one?”
Sean looked at him disbelievingly for a second, then he arched one brow and said, “And you tell me I’m a bad liar?”
Perceptive or not, Viggo knew that something terribly important had happened to Sean within the past five minutes, but actually it wasn’t his business. If Sean wanted to talk about it, he would tell him. Vig would’ve never asked for information Sean wasn’t willing to share voluntarily.
“Hm, seems like I’m the bad liar and you’re more perceptive than I first thought.”
He kept the conversation light. It was obvious that Sean felt way more comfortable at the moment with topics that weren’t too serious.
They didn't talk much from that point on. Sean found it hard to concentrate, like he was in a room full of people talking to him and wanting something from him. Every word Viggo said, even his smallest of motions caused Sean's thoughts to become even louder, more demanding and more confusing at the same time. He couldn't focus on Viggo like he wanted to nor could he bring any sort of order into his turmoil of thoughts and feelings as long as Viggo was even only so much as sitting next to him.
Stretching his legs and wincing slightly at how stiff his knees felt, Sean finally said, "I think it's time for me to get some sleep."
Viggo hummed noncommittally and turned his head, that calm and knowing, disconcertingly handsome expression on his features again.
"I -,” for a moment Sean forgot what he'd wanted to say, too busy staring at Viggo. Then he shook himself back to attention and got up a bit hastily.
"I suppose that drive wore me out a bit. Not used to long trips any longer and all."
Viggo just nodded and said, “I know what you mean. Good night.”
He watched Sean walking back into the house and sighed softly.
It was...boring. Sitting out there without Sean was not only senseless, but also damn boring. Viggo closed his eyes. That was ridiculous. Not _once_ in his life had he found “stargazing” boring. There were so many new stars, new constellations to see, so many beautiful sights, with the moon next to one particular bright star or some clouds getting in the way. It changed every night, like TV, only better. And it didn’t get worse, only because Sean wasn’t there with him to watch.
Should he have said something? Should he have more pressed the issue? No, it wouldn’t have been right. Vig never put pressure on people. Especially not on such...difficult matters. Sean needed time. Hell, he’d needed fucking _years_ to finally come to terms with it. Okay, he’d been much younger than Sean was now, but maybe that had made things only easier instead of more difficult. Viggo shook his head and scowled up to the clear night sky as if it was to blame for the whole mess. Then he sighed and got up. No use spending more time out here. His mood wouldn’t lighten anyway.
TBC
A/N: The first two parts can be found at
das_moor or THERE.
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Date: 2006-08-26 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 11:51 am (UTC)I am looking forward to reading more of this.
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Date: 2006-08-27 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 08:42 pm (UTC)Thank you for the lovely comment. :)
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Date: 2006-08-28 05:46 pm (UTC)Tell me you're not going to keep us waiting for another few months - I'm an awfully impatient girl! ;o)
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Date: 2006-08-28 08:45 pm (UTC)Rest assured this story is by far not over yet. :)
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Date: 2006-08-28 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-29 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-29 07:23 am (UTC)I've just rad all three parts so have caught this right up to date.
...nor could he bring any sort of order into his turmoil of thoughts and feelings" seems to sum it up for me - it was so wonderful I don't know where to start to tell you!
I love the AU world you've created - their professions fit them so well and you've managed to weave so much of their personalities and characteristics and film characters into the story that it's quite amazing.
The settings, too, are most unusual - the VIP box, the zoo, the country house - it's so nice to see them both in new surroundings.
And best of all is the way their relationship starts ot a tentative level. they haven't immediately fallen into bed with each other, in fact they've barely admitted their feelings even to themselves, never mind to each otehr. That's more on a level with how such professional people would behave in RL I think - and it makes wonderful reading. Just to sit back and relax and allow them to discover each otehr and their own feelings in a slow and very moving way makes for such a good story and excellent reading. Much as I do love the "passionate" stories about these two, sometimes a slow approach like this is just a refreshing change anda most delightful discovery.
The slow burning growth of their love and relationship is just remarkable and I find myself already looking forward to seeing where it goes next.
I'm more than ever glad i joined Rugbytackle just to discover gems like this.
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Date: 2006-08-29 07:02 pm (UTC)*stares a bit more*
*tries to say something but shuts her mouth again without having said a word*
Erm.
Wow.
I mean, WOW!!!
Sorry, but you rendered me speechless here for a moment, hon. What a wonderful comment. Thank you so much! We’re...flattered. Not to mention honoured. Wow. I’m still staring mesmerized at all the fantabulous things you wrote.
Comments like yours are really worth the sometimes (in my case and regarding this story, literally) endless hours of editing. I’m sure I’m driving
Thank you for your kind words. Yes, the characters we created need quite some time, but after a...pretty desastrous first attempt on writing a VigBean AU together,
We’re happy to hear that you enjoy the slowliness so much. :) It’s fun to write, too, really. You have more time to concentrate on their feelings and insecurities and...yeah, well...personalities. And let’s not forget the dialogues. I LOVE dialogues! :)
I only wish I’d have the time to edit and update more regularly. I hate to let you all wait for so long. :(
I'm more than ever glad i joined Rugbytackle just to discover gems like this.
You really are too kind, hon. *GLOMPS YOU*
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Date: 2006-08-30 07:45 am (UTC)Honestly, you're both quite welcome - it was just SUCH an enjoyable story, I had to tell you . . .
*hugs back*