FIC: "With Friends Like These..." 1/1 (Orlando/Bean, Harry/Karl) PG
Title: "With Friends Like These..." 1/1
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Fandom: Lotrips
Paring: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Harry Sinclair/Karl Urban)
Rating: PG
Summary: Another poker night, another losing hand, and Orlando's getting desperate.
Takes place within the Temporary Monogamy universe, post-Part 27.
Notes: Written for the twenty-ninth day of the Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge for ennorwen, who asked for Harry/Karl, "laughing at one another's eccentricities."
Due to the fact that Billy and Dom were currently off filming on the South Island, Orlando thought it best if he and Sean hosted the Weekly Garage Poker Night, on account of how he wouldn't have to worry about stumbling home after dark once Harry'd gotten him drunk (because some things might have changed since Harry and Karl had gotten back together, but Harry's love of good port was eternal, sort of like Orlando's love of Sean's arse), and playing in his home court, so to speak, had the added bonus of him being near any knickknacks or tchotckes he might want to throw into the pot if he was losing. And since he almost always lost - he blamed Dave, really - he needed all the help he could get. Sean had grumbled about the cleanup and looking after Bernard (who tended to pass out at the table in mid-bet most weeks - he claimed he could hold his scotch, but everyone knew better), but Orlando was pretty much an expert by now in All Moods Sean Bean, and knew the grumbling was more for show and saving face than any true objection.
The usual Poker Night crowd all stopped by - except Viggo, who'd wound up working on some stunt blocking with Bob and would be by later (so he said, but Orlando fully expected Viggo would forget and show up sometime next week thinking only a few hours had passed) - and it only took about an hour before Orlando was down a container of homemade hummus (a gift from Viggo, so Orlando highly doubted there were even any chickpeas in it - it was probably made from sheep dung or owl feathers), a Wookie Love t-shirt, an Eiffel Tower statue made of paper clips, and - and this one really hurt - a hand-painted wooden picture frame that Orlando had won from Billy just the previous week.
"Bugger it," Orlando sighed, throwing his cards down in disgust. He'd worked long and hard to get that frame from Billy, too.
"Shouldn't've thrown it in the pot, love," Sean observed, rather unsympathetically, if one thought about it.
"Oi, aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"In Sean's defense, he did warn you not to bet it," Karl said, also very unhelpfully. Wasn't he supposed to be Orlando's best mate?
"How was I supposed to know that Miranda was rocking a full house?"
"Because I taught her everything I know?" Dave suggested, from behind his impressive pile of winnings. Wanker. Orlando thought they should ban him from playing.
"Your face is far too ridiculous all pouty like this," Miranda sighed. "If you want to win this back -" she waggled the frame in question " - then I demand a good juicy tidbit about Harry."
Orlando brightened for a second, then frowned. "Wait, why're you asking me and not Karl for tidbits on Harry?"
"Karl's too nice to kiss and tell."
"Ouch." Karl put a hand to his heart and winced. "That's a terrible thing to say, Miranda, I'm truly hurt."
"She's clearly never been driving with you or she'd know better," Marton grinned.
"Stay strong, both of you," Craig urged. "Don't give in to her blatant attempts at bribery."
"Besides, I don't think there's anything all that interesting about me to report," Harry mused, as he sipped on his (ever present, because Harry was consistent like that) glass of port.
"Everyone's got something."
"He always wears socks to bed," Karl offered, toying with the short hairs at Harry's nape as he sat back in his chair. "Best I can do."
"Hell, Orlando does that," Sean said, eyeing Orlando fondly. Orlando tried not to preen too much, but it was a near miss. Sue him, he was still in the Besotted Fool Honeymoon Phase - and he sincerely hoped he never left it.
"I only wear them because you make me, all whinging about how they're too cold in the middle of the night," he said.
"That's a terrible tidbit, anyway," Miranda declared. "Definitely not worthy of me giving up a prized possession."
"You've only had it for five minutes," Dave said, popping a pretzel into his mouth.
Miranda waved a hand. "Semantics."
Orlando wracked his brain...oh, wait, there was always...well, it was sort of embarrassing, but he didn't think Harry would mind. Good cause and all. "How about the fact that Harry sing to the flowers as he's planting them?"
"Much better," Miranda proclaimed, and handed the frame back to Orlando. Harry, to Orlando's relief, just grinned at him around his glass, so he figured he was safe.
"I sing in the shower," Dave stated, like he was divulging a state secret.
"I think everyone does that," Marton replied, taking the cards from Craig to shuffle them for the next hand.
"Yes, but Dave only sings opera."
"And how would you know that?" Orlando asked, gaping at Miranda.
Miranda simply gave a Mona Lisa smile over Dave's cackling laugh.
***
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Fandom: Lotrips
Paring: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Harry Sinclair/Karl Urban)
Rating: PG
Summary: Another poker night, another losing hand, and Orlando's getting desperate.
Takes place within the Temporary Monogamy universe, post-Part 27.
Notes: Written for the twenty-ninth day of the Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge for ennorwen, who asked for Harry/Karl, "laughing at one another's eccentricities."
Due to the fact that Billy and Dom were currently off filming on the South Island, Orlando thought it best if he and Sean hosted the Weekly Garage Poker Night, on account of how he wouldn't have to worry about stumbling home after dark once Harry'd gotten him drunk (because some things might have changed since Harry and Karl had gotten back together, but Harry's love of good port was eternal, sort of like Orlando's love of Sean's arse), and playing in his home court, so to speak, had the added bonus of him being near any knickknacks or tchotckes he might want to throw into the pot if he was losing. And since he almost always lost - he blamed Dave, really - he needed all the help he could get. Sean had grumbled about the cleanup and looking after Bernard (who tended to pass out at the table in mid-bet most weeks - he claimed he could hold his scotch, but everyone knew better), but Orlando was pretty much an expert by now in All Moods Sean Bean, and knew the grumbling was more for show and saving face than any true objection.
The usual Poker Night crowd all stopped by - except Viggo, who'd wound up working on some stunt blocking with Bob and would be by later (so he said, but Orlando fully expected Viggo would forget and show up sometime next week thinking only a few hours had passed) - and it only took about an hour before Orlando was down a container of homemade hummus (a gift from Viggo, so Orlando highly doubted there were even any chickpeas in it - it was probably made from sheep dung or owl feathers), a Wookie Love t-shirt, an Eiffel Tower statue made of paper clips, and - and this one really hurt - a hand-painted wooden picture frame that Orlando had won from Billy just the previous week.
"Bugger it," Orlando sighed, throwing his cards down in disgust. He'd worked long and hard to get that frame from Billy, too.
"Shouldn't've thrown it in the pot, love," Sean observed, rather unsympathetically, if one thought about it.
"Oi, aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"In Sean's defense, he did warn you not to bet it," Karl said, also very unhelpfully. Wasn't he supposed to be Orlando's best mate?
"How was I supposed to know that Miranda was rocking a full house?"
"Because I taught her everything I know?" Dave suggested, from behind his impressive pile of winnings. Wanker. Orlando thought they should ban him from playing.
"Your face is far too ridiculous all pouty like this," Miranda sighed. "If you want to win this back -" she waggled the frame in question " - then I demand a good juicy tidbit about Harry."
Orlando brightened for a second, then frowned. "Wait, why're you asking me and not Karl for tidbits on Harry?"
"Karl's too nice to kiss and tell."
"Ouch." Karl put a hand to his heart and winced. "That's a terrible thing to say, Miranda, I'm truly hurt."
"She's clearly never been driving with you or she'd know better," Marton grinned.
"Stay strong, both of you," Craig urged. "Don't give in to her blatant attempts at bribery."
"Besides, I don't think there's anything all that interesting about me to report," Harry mused, as he sipped on his (ever present, because Harry was consistent like that) glass of port.
"Everyone's got something."
"He always wears socks to bed," Karl offered, toying with the short hairs at Harry's nape as he sat back in his chair. "Best I can do."
"Hell, Orlando does that," Sean said, eyeing Orlando fondly. Orlando tried not to preen too much, but it was a near miss. Sue him, he was still in the Besotted Fool Honeymoon Phase - and he sincerely hoped he never left it.
"I only wear them because you make me, all whinging about how they're too cold in the middle of the night," he said.
"That's a terrible tidbit, anyway," Miranda declared. "Definitely not worthy of me giving up a prized possession."
"You've only had it for five minutes," Dave said, popping a pretzel into his mouth.
Miranda waved a hand. "Semantics."
Orlando wracked his brain...oh, wait, there was always...well, it was sort of embarrassing, but he didn't think Harry would mind. Good cause and all. "How about the fact that Harry sing to the flowers as he's planting them?"
"Much better," Miranda proclaimed, and handed the frame back to Orlando. Harry, to Orlando's relief, just grinned at him around his glass, so he figured he was safe.
"I sing in the shower," Dave stated, like he was divulging a state secret.
"I think everyone does that," Marton replied, taking the cards from Craig to shuffle them for the next hand.
"Yes, but Dave only sings opera."
"And how would you know that?" Orlando asked, gaping at Miranda.
Miranda simply gave a Mona Lisa smile over Dave's cackling laugh.
***