The little AU: Interludes and Whispers: Photographs and Dreams
The little AU: Interludes and Whispers: Photographs and Dreams
slashfairy
G
~~
Orlando looks at the photos from the last week and wonders why he thought this'd be under the radar.
It does Steven good to look a little under the weather, hollow-eyed and slightly stooped, but does Orlando no good when he's working to be overtired, a little raspy, a little gaunt.
They'd had to call the police out the other night for the size of the crowd.
He's grateful for the appreciation, but wishes, as he sometimes does (feeling vaguely guilty for this- but not quite willing to admit why) that he'd no gantlet of programs and other things to run each night armed only with Sharpies and his smile. At a premiere, sure. But after every performance, and before some of them?
He's tired.
~~
Viggo wakes again to the sounds of the sea and shore meeting, and finds he's fallen asleep on the sofa in his room. On tour again for a film, his new life, he decides, all other lives being dreams seen in photographs captured by strangers in places he's probably never really been in the first place.
What woke him, though? There's no sea here, he's in a big city in a small hotel in a decent-sized pair of rooms, and slept well enough except for that other man's dreams a voice in his head reminds him..
Yes. He'd promised, in his dreams, to write this other man's dreams down.
Pencil and paper, maté cold but drinkable, he writes.
~~
Jack watches from the armchair across the room while Viggo's pen moves across paper. No names in this, none given or needed- only the dreams needing to be wrote down, taken from Jack's head to some other place for safe-keeping, that Jack may be free again to live in that other world where he sails the Pearl, Will sails the Dutchman, and each has his purpose and that is enough.
slashfairy
G
~~
Orlando looks at the photos from the last week and wonders why he thought this'd be under the radar.
It does Steven good to look a little under the weather, hollow-eyed and slightly stooped, but does Orlando no good when he's working to be overtired, a little raspy, a little gaunt.
They'd had to call the police out the other night for the size of the crowd.
He's grateful for the appreciation, but wishes, as he sometimes does (feeling vaguely guilty for this- but not quite willing to admit why) that he'd no gantlet of programs and other things to run each night armed only with Sharpies and his smile. At a premiere, sure. But after every performance, and before some of them?
He's tired.
~~
Viggo wakes again to the sounds of the sea and shore meeting, and finds he's fallen asleep on the sofa in his room. On tour again for a film, his new life, he decides, all other lives being dreams seen in photographs captured by strangers in places he's probably never really been in the first place.
What woke him, though? There's no sea here, he's in a big city in a small hotel in a decent-sized pair of rooms, and slept well enough except for that other man's dreams a voice in his head reminds him..
Yes. He'd promised, in his dreams, to write this other man's dreams down.
Pencil and paper, maté cold but drinkable, he writes.
~~
Jack watches from the armchair across the room while Viggo's pen moves across paper. No names in this, none given or needed- only the dreams needing to be wrote down, taken from Jack's head to some other place for safe-keeping, that Jack may be free again to live in that other world where he sails the Pearl, Will sails the Dutchman, and each has his purpose and that is enough.