Fic: The Face You Show the World, Part 2
Title: The Face You Show the World
Author: greensage
Rating: R
Fandom/Pairing(s): LotR RPS - Viggo/Orlando
Warnings: m/m Slash (not graphic). AU. Some coarse language
Disclaimer: This story is a work of FICTION. I do not know any of the actors in this story, nor am I aware of their sexual preferences or private interactions with each other. No offense is intended, and no money is made from this story.
Summary: Orlando has gone to Hollywood. Can Viggo keep him from going too far?
A/N: Thanks to sheltiesong for her help and encouragement. You're the best, gwathel!
Lyrics:
And you'll never be alone
Come on, now, show your soul
You've been keeping your love under control.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orlando sprawled elegantly (he hoped) in a chair that faced a table in one of Madrid’s trendiest outdoor cafés. He stared blankly at the menu for a moment before realizing that it was not tiredness that was preventing him from comprehending the words before him. The menu was in Spanish, of course, and Spanish was a language Orlando did not speak very well.
And naturally, his frighteningly efficient, ever-present, and coincidentally Spanish-speaking assistant had stepped out of the outdoor dining area to make a few calls. Last minute travel arrangements, Michael had said, his manner unusually cagey. Inevitably, it was at that moment that a waiter appeared at Orlando’s elbow, asking a question that, sans phrasebook and assistant-cum-translator, he was ill-equipped to answer.
He blinked stupidly at the attentive server for a moment, already envisioning the headlines. ORLANDO BLOOM TOO STUPID TO ORDER LUNCH AT CAFÉ! Robin would be furious, he reflected. Desperately, he wished for Michael to come to his aid.
Abruptly, the menu was plucked from his nerveless fingers, and for an instant, Orlando was sure he’d been rescued. However, it wasn’t Michael’s perfect, unaccented Spanish that answered the waiter. A quiet, raspy voice he’d never expected to hear in person again gave a few rapid-fire instructions to the waiter, who nodded and left. Orlando twisted around, attempting to see if his ears were playing tricks on him, but the owner of the voice was already depositing himself into one of the other chairs at Orlando’s table.
“Vig?” Orlando blurted, his voice dangerously close to a squeak.
“Ah, so you do remember the names of your former castmates,” Viggo said mildly.
Orlando had the grace to blush slightly. "About that. Been meaning to call the Hobbits and apologize, yeah? Just couldn't afford to acknowledge them that night. Robin said that premiere had to be about me moving on from the past, so I couldn't very well spend the evening with me mates from the first film I ever did."
Viggo regarded Orlando steadily for a moment. "They're your friends, Orlando, and you know as well as I that real friends are few and far between in our business. This is the Fellowship, for God's sake. You hurt them. And they're worried about you. Since when did you ever let the cameras or your staff dictate your behavior?"
Orlando's expression went from contrite to guilty to angry.
"It's a lesson I learned from someone I used to respect," he said frostily.
"Really. And who might that be?" Viggo asked, although he half suspected what Orlando's answer would be.
"You," Orlando growled, "so I won't sit here and listen to you lecture me about loyalty and friendship when you made it clear that your career has to come first."
He looked around. "And now you've driven off the wait staff, so it'll be an age before I can get lunch and get out of here," he grumbled. Orlando shot Viggo a glare, and his irritation doubled when he saw the mix of pity and amusement on the older actor's face.
"You should never live your life based on assumptions, Orlando," Viggo said cryptically. "Ah, and here comes our lunch."
The waiter delivered two takeout boxes to the table, and Viggo counted out a few bills and handed them over. The waiter thanked him and left.
"What...?" Orlando started.
"We're eating on the go today, Elfboy. Get your things. We have a plane to catch."
"What the... Vig, I cannot just lark off to God knows where with you just because you disapprove of me. I mean, there are... I have... obligations! And my assistant..."
"Has been in contact with me for the last week," Viggo cut in. "How else do you think I was able to find you today? He's probably on his way back to L.A. by now. He promised to run interference with the rest of your staff until you get back."
Orlando gaped. The nerve of the man! Thinking he could just abscond with Orlando to wherever the mad artist fancied just because he had a quibble with Orlando's behavior! Well. If Viggo Mortensen thought that, he had another think coming.
"You really are the limit," Orlando grated. "Michael just stepped out for a moment; I'm going to find him, and we're going to be off back to L.A. Both of us."
"Check your watch," Viggo said bluntly. "Your flight left a half hour ago."
Reflexively, Orlando glanced at his wrist and was incensed to see that Viggo was right.
"Damn it all!" Orlando swore. "I was really getting to like Michael, too. I'll have let him go after this little stunt." He genuinely regretted that. Michael was efficient, friendly, and frequently commiserated with Orlando about the women that ran his career.
For the first time since he sat down at Orlando's table, Viggo looked a little unsure. "You were... getting to like your assistant?"
"Yes," Orlando smirked. He knew exactly what Viggo suspected, and for a moment, considered leading him on. "But not the way you think I mean," Orlando's conscience prodded him to say. "I meant I liked having him as an assistant and friend, nothing more."
"Aha. Well, don't sign his pink slip just yet. You never know; maybe he did you a favor."
"What, stranding me in Madrid?" Orlando scoffed.
Viggo rolled his eyes, picked up their boxed lunches, and dragged Orlando to his feet. "C'mon, Elf. I wasn't kidding about the plane."
~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo sat quietly beside a sullen Orlando as their airplane flew across the Atlantic Ocean, bound for the United States. Twice, he nearly blurted everything out to Orlando right there on the plane, but restrained himself. It was difficult, knowing that Orlando was upset with him and didn't quite trust him anymore, but Viggo knew that he might never get another chance at this, so he had to do it right.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Orlando was falling asleep until a dark, curly head settled heavily on his shoulder. Viggo smiled briefly, and his free hand crept over to stroke softly over Orlando’s hair, just once. He watched the younger man sleep for a moment before drowsiness caught up with him, and he dozed with his cheek resting on the crown of Orlando’s head.
When Viggo roused himself again, it was in response to the Fasten Seat Belt sign pinging on over his head. He was wrapped around something warm and didn’t particularly feel like moving. Something warm... Viggo came fully awake at nearly the same instant Orlando did, and they jerked away from each other. Orlando blinked owlishly, disoriented.
“Wha?” he asked with the befuddled alertness common to those who are abruptly awakened.
“Wake up, ‘Lando, we’re landing.”
Orlando blinked. “Landing where, exactly?”
“Chicago. We need to change planes.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Did you bring your running shoes?”
“Great,” Orlando grumped. “Where the hell are you taking me anyway?”
“I’ll tell you after we board the next flight.”
Orlando muttered something about sneaky rangers and how they weren’t to be trusted. Ever.
Viggo grinned and dragged Orlando along behind him, shouldering his way to the front of the aircraft and taking off up the jetway at a steady lope. He’d done this deliberately, scheduled flights with hardly any time between so there would be no time to stop and no time for Orlando to back out and make other arrangements. They dashed through the airport, Viggo in the lead, and just barely made the last boarding call of their next flight.
Panting, the two actors collapsed into their seats (First Class, for which Orlando’s back was very thankful). Viggo could see all the questions that hovered behind Orlando’s dark eyes, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything before the placidly cheerful voice of a flight attendant came over the intercom.
“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome aboard American Airlines flight #783 to Boise.”
“Ah, so you’re taking me to the fabled cabin in the woods,” Orlando said, his voice deep and slightly breathless from their exertions.
“Figured you could do with a little time away from everything.”
Just for a moment, Orlando stopped being mulish and regarded Viggo seriously. “Why would you think that? “Everything” is all there is.”
And that nearly broke Viggo’s heart. He swallowed hard.
“That’s exactly why I’m taking you to Idaho.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Getting to Idaho, or rather to Viggo’s corner of it, was not so simple as flying into Boise, however. Once there, they folded their tall frames into a small chartered plane which took them to an airstrip (Airstrip! Orlando’s mind gibbered. It’s not even paved!). From there, they piled into a range rover with Viggo behind the wheel and jounced over hill and dale until they came to a winding two-lane road, which took them to a winding dirt road, which took them into the trees and over a stream and finally out into a large meadow.
Orlando gaped. At one end of the grassy sward, a good sized lodge nestled against the trees. A stable sat several yards away, and a couple of very familiar horses grazed contentedly in a fenced paddock off to one side. He stared incredulously for a moment, then took of running with a glad cry.
“Arod!” The great Percheron’s ears pricked, and he paced over to the fence. Orlando reached him in a moment, hands reaching out to stroke a soft nose and ruffle his long mane. The horse caught his scent and whickered in recognition, first shoving his nose against Orlando’s chest, then rearing his head up to whuffle enthusiastically at Orlando’s hair.
“How in the world, Vig?” Orlando babbled. “I mean, I knew you had Uraeus, but I had no idea you had my brave fellow up here, too!”
Viggo sauntered up, his expression unreadable. He grinned suddenly. “There’s my Elf.”
Orlando blushed faintly.
“Arod’s owner suddenly found himself unable to care for him any longer. I heard about his troubles, and I didn’t want the horse to go to an unfamiliar place and unfamiliar people, or worse. This is still an unfamiliar place, but at least there are horses and people here that he knows.” Viggo paused. “He’s yours if you want him.”
Eyes wide with astonishment, Orlando spun around. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. You can board him here and visit whenever you like.”
Orlando was silent for a moment. Acquiring a horse from his first big movie and boarding it at Viggo’s ranch in Idaho was probably not what Robin would call a “career-enhancing move.” This was not the sort of thing that young, trendsetting stars did. But oh, how he wanted to!
“Are you sure, Vig? Even though I’ve been such a prat to the Hobbits?” he asked hesitantly.
Viggo stepped closer, right into Orlando’s personal space, and raised one callused hand to his cheek. “Once upon a time, in Middle Earth, I met a boy. He was as beautiful inside as he was on the outside, and had a heart as big as the sky. For him... I would do almost anything.”
“I dunno, Vig,” Orlando said sadly, trying to get his breathing under control. “I think that boy died in New Zealand. He couldn’t survive in Hollywood.”
For an instant, Viggo’s expression mirrored Orlando’s regret, but then he smiled and stroked his thumb gently over Orlando’s cheekbone.
“Oh, I think he’s still in there. You just need to let him out.” With that pronouncement and an enigmatic smile, Viggo left Orlando alone with his new horse and headed toward the house, picking up their bags along the way.
~~~~~~~~~~
Honestly, Viggo hadn’t expected Orlando to follow him in. He figured the young man would want to spend some more time with his horse. So, when the front door banged open and Orlando stormed through, eyes flashing, Viggo was caught rather off his guard.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Orlando snarled.
“Bringing in the bags, I thought,” Viggo replied, glancing down at the luggage clustered about his feet.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Suppose you explain it to me, then.”
“What are you... How can you... How can you DO this to me?” Orlando blustered.
“Do what?” Viggo asked reasonably. “All I’ve done is give you a horse and carry your bags inside. Do you object to any of that?”
Orlando glared, but Viggo saw more hurt than anger in his eyes this time.
“I heard you, you know,” Orlando said, avoiding the question. “I heard you talking to Bean on the Rings set. You said you’d rather break somebody’s heart than get involved with them and jeopardize your career. How can you do these things for me and... and touch me like that when it will all come to nothing?”
Viggo took a deep breath, knowing that what he said next would make or break this whole mad scheme to bring back the Orlando he knew and still loved.
“I said that I would rather break someone’s heart than jeopardize anyone’s career. I could’ve worded that better; I meant jeopardize anyone else’s career. I think you know me well enough to know that I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of me. If you’d stayed and listened to the rest of that conversation, you would’ve heard me clarify that to Sean. I wish you had stayed. God, how I wish you’d stayed.”
The look on Orlando’s face went from hurt to confused, and his eyes begged for an explanation.
Greatly daring, Viggo reached out and caught one of Orlando’s hands. “If you’d stayed, you would’ve heard Sean ask me if the same would hold true if I knew that a certain Elf had fallen in love with me. I told him, honestly, that a chance to be with you was worth anything. Everything. Because there was no way you’d ever be just an on-set fling for me; I’d already lost my heart to you and was trying not to pressure you into anything.
“After that day, though, any interest I thought you might’ve had in me seemed to evaporate. I didn’t want to lose your friendship, so I tried to be “just a mate,” as you’d say. Seems it worked a little too well. I’m sorry about that, Orlando. I should’ve tried harder; should’ve been brave enough to take that risk. Can you forgive me?”
For a moment, Orlando stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. He swallowed, then asked carefully, “And now? Do you feel anything for me now?”
“Nothing has changed, Orlando. I mean, you’ve changed, and I’ve probably changed since New Zealand, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. I’d like to get to know you again, to learn the changes that have made you who you are.” Viggo reached up with his free hand to caress Orlando’s cheek again. “You’ve locked so much of yourself away. I’d like to see you be who you really are again, and never mind the cameras, or the hype, or whatever anyone else says your career should be.”
Orlando’s eyes slid shut, and he leaned unconsciously into Viggo’s touch. “I’ve been so alone,” he murmured. “Makes me sound like a big girl’s blouse, but I’ve just been so lonely.”
“You never have to be alone,” Viggo whispered roughly. “Not unless you want to be.”
Orlando regarded him through lowered lashes, and then his eyes migrated to Viggo’s mouth. Viggo saw Orlando’s focus change, and his pulse hitched and then pounded along in double time. He leaned forward a little more, giving Orlando plenty of time to back away. Orlando didn’t, so Viggo gently took the young man’s mouth in a chaste kiss.
He intended it to be chaste, anyhow, but a low, helpless sound rumbled its way out of Orlando’s chest. Before he realized what he was doing, Viggo had Orlando backed up against a wall, devouring his pliant mouth and searching for more intoxicating noises. At length, he finally wrenched his mouth away and, panting, leaned his forehead against Orlando’s.
“I really hope you are not going to stop there,” Orlando rasped breathlessly.
Viggo chuckled. “Not unless you want me to. Do you want me to stop?” he teased.
“Bed,” Orlando said decisively and dragged Viggo towards the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~
From: humanscum@gmail.com
To: ringbearer@hotmail.com, foolofatook@yahoo.co.uk, crazyhobbit@gmail.com
Subject: Status report
Happy to report that the Elf has been found. We’ll be in Idaho for a few more days, but we’ll be flying back to L.A. by nextttt
Hobbits! Sorry for being an arse. Will make it up to you, promise! Strider is busy right now, so you’ll have to find another Ranger to drag out of bed. Talk to you lot later! Much later.
Ta,
Leggy
Fin. Thanks for reading!