FIC: "Temporary Monogamy" (Part Twenty-Two) (Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean, Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Title: "Temporary Monogamy" (22/27)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
They fell as one onto the bed, shifting positions until they were curled together to their satisfaction, neither wanting to be parted from the other for even a moment. Strong arms wrapped around him as Sean murmured something indistinct and brushed a soft kiss to the back of Orlando's neck. Orlando snuggled in, close and safe, and counted Sean's deep, even breaths, letting the familiar sound lull him to sleep...
Fingers snapped in front of Orlando's eyes and he quickly glanced up. For a moment, he couldn't remember where the hell he was. Then sight and sound slowly returned. Pub night. Another long day of burying himself in filming. Another day without Sean on set. Without Sean stopping by for breakfast or a chat. Another day of avoidance. Of cowardice on his part.
Fuck, he was starting to lose it completely. Just like his cousin Charlie, who regularly convened with the squirrels in his front lawn. Claimed they were better conversationalists than most people. Mark his words, that was going to be him in another few days. Be out chatting with the dolphins and seagulls and such, just wait.
"You still with us?" Viggo asked, staring at him from under shaggy bangs. He looked more unkempt than usual, which was saying something. His jeans and shirt looked slept in - which, come to think on it, didn't really surprise him. Orlando wondered if Viggo actually thought he was living in Middle Earth and had forgotten what showers were. Wouldn't surprise him if Viggo was washing himself in the stream or something and using beaver lye for soap.
"Yeah." Orlando slowly tested the word, made sure it was the truth. Still here. Mostly. Physically, at least. The last vestiges of the too-vivid daydream dissipated as he shook his head to clear it. He had no business daydreaming about Sean anyway, especially given the nature of it. Who the fuck fantasized about cuddling? He pushed his mug of ale to the center of the table; it was too warm to drink.
Viggo straddled the bench, nodded out at the other tables in the small, crowded pub. "Which one is it?"
Orlando looked around, thinking he might've missed someone entering. "What?"
"Who are you thinking about?" Blue eyes flashed in amusement when Orlando didn’t immediately answer. "C’mon. Don’t keep me in suspense. Karl, I bet."
Christ, but he always wound up having the most bizarre conversations with Viggo. "Karl?" he asked, curious in spite of his best efforts not to be. After a year, one would have thought he'd have learned.
"You know you don't have to worry about him."
"What the hell are you even on about?" Seriously, talking with Viggo was like talking astrophysics or poetry with a dolphin. Sure they were smarter than humans, but who could understand them?
Viggo flashed a patented, crooked grin showing whiter than white teeth. Made him look like a particularly naughty schoolchild. "You know Karl's not going to hold whatever happened between you and Sean against you, right?"
Orlando sighed. Ah, that. The proverbial elephant in the room. Like he’d really expected to keep it a secret, right? Juicy gossip like him kissing Sean was bound to get out sooner or later. Not that he had any intention of baring his soul to Viggo. He wasn't that mental just yet. "I honestly cannot talk about this with you."
"Why not?"
"Vigs, the last time I came to you for advice, I wound up hitting the motherlode of all bad dates." He still couldn't figure out what had possessed him. Asking Viggo for any sort of relationship guidance was just begging to get spanked, and not in a fun, kinky sort of way.
"Found Jerry, didn't you?"
"That had nothing to do with you," Orlando pointed out, rather logically, he thought. Then again, logic and Viggo, eh?
Just then, Harry walked up and parked himself on the bench across from Viggo and Orlando. His glass of port was still full, which meant he'd just made it to pub. "What's Viggo trying to convince you of this time?" he asked, making it clear he'd been eavesdropping. Not unusual. Harry claimed most of a writer's job was eavesdropping on conversations and gleaning the good bits.
Not that Orlando cared at the moment. Harry was here. Thank fuck, a savior.
"Either that Jerry and I are shagging because of him or that Karl's not mad at me," Orlando said, giving Harry his best 'rescue me' look, one he'd managed to perfect from hanging with Viggo so much.
"Karl's got no reason to be mad," Harry replied, with a slight shrug, then jerked a thumb at Viggo. "And if you and Jerry are inviting that one into your bed, then you deserve him lurking about."
"As if," Orlando scoffed. Just the thought alone would give him nightmares for a month. He'd always imagined that sex with Viggo would involve a lot of paint and mud and possibly being left tied up after as a sacrifice to whatever nature god Viggo was praying to that week.
"Your loss," Viggo said, with a crooked grin that said he probably knew what Orlando was thinking.
"I'll try not to let it keep me up at night."
Orlando could just tell that Viggo was gearing up for one of his rambling one-sided conversations - possibly involving the sleep patterns of fleas on dogs or something - but just then Billy swept down and whisked Viggo away for what sounded like a game of Strip Darts. Orlando didn't want to know further (even though he wasn't sure what the rules to Strip Darts would even entail.) He was just grateful it was only him and Harry left. At least he could talk to Harry.
"So..." Orlando traced the scarred patterns on the table with a finger. "Y'think he's not?"
"Karl?" Harry asked, reading Orlando's mind as always. His smile was open, sincere. "Believe me, you'd know if he was mad at you. Although I'd be worrying more about the fact that you still haven't talked to Sean yet."
Which Orlando absolutely hadn't, but his cowardice was his business, wasn't it? "How d'you know that I haven't?"
"Karl would have told me," Harry said simply.
Of course he would have. Defeated, Orlando just let out a slow breath. "I have no idea what I'm doing." Which was the truth, as far as it went.
"About?"
He looked up, sought Harry's gaze for something. Answers, a plan, forgiveness, he wasn't sure. All he knew was he was sick to death of the status quo. "They're both my friends, aren't they? They should be upset. It was a monumentally stupid thing to do."
"That's cutting it a little thick, mate. You had a few snogs, nothing else happened, it's not the end of the world."
"But it's Sean." Something that everyone seemed to be completely forgetting. "I don't look at him like that."
"The fuck you don't," Harry scoffed.
Orlando stopped short at the vehemence in Harry's tone. "Beg pardon?"
"Look, there's no harm in kissing on a person you find attractive. But don't lie about it." Harry tapped the table in emphasis. "You've had chemistry with him since the day you met."
Orlando sighed. It wasn't something he'd ever really thought about, at least, not consciously. Alright, maybe there was something to what Harry was saying, but fuck, he'd have to be dead not to find Sean attractive, right? Didn't have to mean anything. It didn't mean anything. Things were what they were, and that was that. "Yeah, well, he's like you, isn't he? Like Karl. We're mates. I can find someone attractive and not want to, y'know, do anything else."
"Tell him that, not me," Harry shrugged. "Unless there really is a problem."
"No." Orlando ruthlessly shoved the memory of the kisses, and the reoccurring dreams, out of his head. That was his own guilt coming back to bite him in the arse, pure and simple. "There's no problem."
"There you go, then." Harry saluted him with his glass as he sat back. "Easy enough."
Orlando stared gloomily into his own unwanted mug. He loved Harry like a brother, but sometimes, he thought Harry just didn't get the real world. "Nothing is ever that easy."
Harry's gaze didn't waver from his. "Sometimes it is."
***
It still took Orlando another day to screw up his courage and face Sean. He knew he was acting the prat, but he had to get it all sorted in his head before he said something he'd regret. He had a nasty habit of speaking before he really thought, and that just would not do in this case.
This was too important. Sean was too important.
And maybe, just maybe, Harry had a point. Not about things being simple, because things weren't simple. If kissing Sean had been a simple matter, if it had just been a simple drunken kiss between mates, Orlando wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, now would he? Wouldn't be dreaming about it after, either, now would he? Exactly.
Then again, it wasn't every day that a drunken kiss with a friend rocked his world like a bomb going off. He thought perhaps he was entitled to a little bit of equivocation.
But it could be that the reason Orlando was having issues was that there was some latent sexual attraction. God knew, it would explain so many things. It made sense that now that he was experimenting with the whole bisexual thing that he'd start to look upon his friends in a new light. That part of him would wonder 'what if'. It didn't have to mean anything, though. Because it didn't. His friendships were so much more important than scratching a momentary itch because of sexual curiosity.
Harry was right. There was no need to panic. It had been a great kiss, but now his curiosity was satisfied, they were done. It never needed to be repeated or talked about ever again. He and Sean could say their piece, slap each other on the back, move on. Stay friends.
Christ, he was so terrified he was going to bollocks up the truest friendship he'd ever had.
Still. He was an adult. And adults did the adult thing, even when it wasn't pleasant. So, Orlando pulled up on his bootstraps, remembered he had a pair, and walked over to Sean's to wait for him to come home so they could have their chat. He could do this.
Although, seeing Sean for the first time since that morning in the trailer was considerably more difficult than he'd thought. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay in his chair as Sean walked up the porch steps and stood in front of him, one brow cocked in question. Fuck, Sean looked tired. Bone-deep exhausted, with pronounced lines around his mouth, eyes that carried none of their usual sparkle and lust for life, and shoulders that looked tight with tension. But, Orlando had to admit that not sleeping certainly wasn't doing anything to take away from how ruggedly handsome Sean was...and wait. Just...wait. That wasn't...
Fuck, he absolutely should not be thinking this.
He was out of his chair like a shot. No way he could say what needed to be said sitting down. His stomach had enough butterflies, thank you.
"So, listen," he started, looking everywhere but at Sean, "about the, um...I mean, I wanted to talk to you about..."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean move towards him, and he flinched back. Sean stopped. "Look, Orlando, it's not -"
Orlando knew if he didn't interrupt Sean soon, he'd die of his own embarrassment. He would be a bloody adult about this if it killed him. "I'm sorry." He forced himself to look into Sean's eyes, to meet this head-on, because that was also what adults did. "I mean, not that I kissed you, it was a great kiss. But I shouldn't have. And not just because of Karl."
"Why not?" Sean asked, with a slight frown. He sounded genuinely flummoxed.
"We're friends." Orlando stopped. Started again. What the fuck'd happened to his carefully rehearsed speech? "I know that sounds ridiculous. I mean, of course we're friends and we're always fucking about, but it's just...we're just...it's different." Jesus, he was bollocksing the whole thing up. "Your friendship is so important to me. And I don't want to..."
"Ruin it?" Sean supplied, in the softest voice Orlando had ever heard.
"Exactly," Orlando replied, pleased that Sean understood. "Seriously, I've done some stupid things and I know that and I'm not sure what I was thinking grabbing you like that, but..."
"It's alright," Sean interrupted. This time, Orlando didn't flinch when Sean put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "T'were probably the drink."
Orlando nodded, feeling a little like a jack-in-the-box. "See, that's what I kept saying to myself. And, y'know, I have missed you." It seemed important that Sean understand that.
"I see," Sean drawled. His smile was slight as he dropped his hand. Orlando refused to think about how cold his shoulder suddenly felt.
"Good. I knew you'd understand." He shuffled forward, cleared his throat. Wondered why it was that his chest felt so constricted. "Well, um, I just...I should get a move on."
"Yeah, of course." Sean gave him another slight smile, this one looking a little less strained, and took another step back.
Orlando stopped on the bottom of the stairs, and turned. Sean was still looking a little lost, and something deep inside Orlando unfurled at the sight. He was an utter cunt, but he could still be a good friend. He hoped.
"Uh, look," he started, shoving his fists into his jeans pockets, the speech tumbling out of him in a rush. "I know I didn't say it that night, but I am sorry about the divorce. I can't imagine what you must be going through, but I just...I think you've got a fuck of a lot to offer. You're the best man I know, and I just... Don't sell yourself short, alright? And don't close yourself off from the future because you've tried and failed. Our failures are just as valuable as our triumphs, y'know?"
Sean stared at him for such a long time that Orlando was starting to think he'd overstepped the boundaries of where they were now. He shouldn't have said anything. Things between them were too fragile, Sean wasn't ready to hear it, this was such a stupid...
"Thank you," Sean finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I appreciate it."
"Well, I mean it," Orlando replied, his smile tremulous. The butterflies returned in full force. "You want to pop over to pub and have a pint?"
"Can't," Sean answered, looking apologetic. It helped to ease some of the sting of the rejection. "I need to look over these new pages for tomorrow or Peter'll have my hide. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yeah, of course." Stupid to have thought that it would have been that simple, no matter what Harry'd said. Orlando took two defeated shuffled steps away before Sean's voice stopped him.
"Breakfast in the morning, then?"
Orlando had no idea why he felt like crying, but his eyes were prickling with unshed tears and his voice was clogged with emotion when he turned back to Sean. Who was looking back at him with an expression that Orlando couldn't quite place. "Sounds aces," he said, and waited for Sean to nod in agreement and step inside his house before turning away again.
Christ, he'd be glad when things were back to normal.
(To Be Continued)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
They fell as one onto the bed, shifting positions until they were curled together to their satisfaction, neither wanting to be parted from the other for even a moment. Strong arms wrapped around him as Sean murmured something indistinct and brushed a soft kiss to the back of Orlando's neck. Orlando snuggled in, close and safe, and counted Sean's deep, even breaths, letting the familiar sound lull him to sleep...
Fingers snapped in front of Orlando's eyes and he quickly glanced up. For a moment, he couldn't remember where the hell he was. Then sight and sound slowly returned. Pub night. Another long day of burying himself in filming. Another day without Sean on set. Without Sean stopping by for breakfast or a chat. Another day of avoidance. Of cowardice on his part.
Fuck, he was starting to lose it completely. Just like his cousin Charlie, who regularly convened with the squirrels in his front lawn. Claimed they were better conversationalists than most people. Mark his words, that was going to be him in another few days. Be out chatting with the dolphins and seagulls and such, just wait.
"You still with us?" Viggo asked, staring at him from under shaggy bangs. He looked more unkempt than usual, which was saying something. His jeans and shirt looked slept in - which, come to think on it, didn't really surprise him. Orlando wondered if Viggo actually thought he was living in Middle Earth and had forgotten what showers were. Wouldn't surprise him if Viggo was washing himself in the stream or something and using beaver lye for soap.
"Yeah." Orlando slowly tested the word, made sure it was the truth. Still here. Mostly. Physically, at least. The last vestiges of the too-vivid daydream dissipated as he shook his head to clear it. He had no business daydreaming about Sean anyway, especially given the nature of it. Who the fuck fantasized about cuddling? He pushed his mug of ale to the center of the table; it was too warm to drink.
Viggo straddled the bench, nodded out at the other tables in the small, crowded pub. "Which one is it?"
Orlando looked around, thinking he might've missed someone entering. "What?"
"Who are you thinking about?" Blue eyes flashed in amusement when Orlando didn’t immediately answer. "C’mon. Don’t keep me in suspense. Karl, I bet."
Christ, but he always wound up having the most bizarre conversations with Viggo. "Karl?" he asked, curious in spite of his best efforts not to be. After a year, one would have thought he'd have learned.
"You know you don't have to worry about him."
"What the hell are you even on about?" Seriously, talking with Viggo was like talking astrophysics or poetry with a dolphin. Sure they were smarter than humans, but who could understand them?
Viggo flashed a patented, crooked grin showing whiter than white teeth. Made him look like a particularly naughty schoolchild. "You know Karl's not going to hold whatever happened between you and Sean against you, right?"
Orlando sighed. Ah, that. The proverbial elephant in the room. Like he’d really expected to keep it a secret, right? Juicy gossip like him kissing Sean was bound to get out sooner or later. Not that he had any intention of baring his soul to Viggo. He wasn't that mental just yet. "I honestly cannot talk about this with you."
"Why not?"
"Vigs, the last time I came to you for advice, I wound up hitting the motherlode of all bad dates." He still couldn't figure out what had possessed him. Asking Viggo for any sort of relationship guidance was just begging to get spanked, and not in a fun, kinky sort of way.
"Found Jerry, didn't you?"
"That had nothing to do with you," Orlando pointed out, rather logically, he thought. Then again, logic and Viggo, eh?
Just then, Harry walked up and parked himself on the bench across from Viggo and Orlando. His glass of port was still full, which meant he'd just made it to pub. "What's Viggo trying to convince you of this time?" he asked, making it clear he'd been eavesdropping. Not unusual. Harry claimed most of a writer's job was eavesdropping on conversations and gleaning the good bits.
Not that Orlando cared at the moment. Harry was here. Thank fuck, a savior.
"Either that Jerry and I are shagging because of him or that Karl's not mad at me," Orlando said, giving Harry his best 'rescue me' look, one he'd managed to perfect from hanging with Viggo so much.
"Karl's got no reason to be mad," Harry replied, with a slight shrug, then jerked a thumb at Viggo. "And if you and Jerry are inviting that one into your bed, then you deserve him lurking about."
"As if," Orlando scoffed. Just the thought alone would give him nightmares for a month. He'd always imagined that sex with Viggo would involve a lot of paint and mud and possibly being left tied up after as a sacrifice to whatever nature god Viggo was praying to that week.
"Your loss," Viggo said, with a crooked grin that said he probably knew what Orlando was thinking.
"I'll try not to let it keep me up at night."
Orlando could just tell that Viggo was gearing up for one of his rambling one-sided conversations - possibly involving the sleep patterns of fleas on dogs or something - but just then Billy swept down and whisked Viggo away for what sounded like a game of Strip Darts. Orlando didn't want to know further (even though he wasn't sure what the rules to Strip Darts would even entail.) He was just grateful it was only him and Harry left. At least he could talk to Harry.
"So..." Orlando traced the scarred patterns on the table with a finger. "Y'think he's not?"
"Karl?" Harry asked, reading Orlando's mind as always. His smile was open, sincere. "Believe me, you'd know if he was mad at you. Although I'd be worrying more about the fact that you still haven't talked to Sean yet."
Which Orlando absolutely hadn't, but his cowardice was his business, wasn't it? "How d'you know that I haven't?"
"Karl would have told me," Harry said simply.
Of course he would have. Defeated, Orlando just let out a slow breath. "I have no idea what I'm doing." Which was the truth, as far as it went.
"About?"
He looked up, sought Harry's gaze for something. Answers, a plan, forgiveness, he wasn't sure. All he knew was he was sick to death of the status quo. "They're both my friends, aren't they? They should be upset. It was a monumentally stupid thing to do."
"That's cutting it a little thick, mate. You had a few snogs, nothing else happened, it's not the end of the world."
"But it's Sean." Something that everyone seemed to be completely forgetting. "I don't look at him like that."
"The fuck you don't," Harry scoffed.
Orlando stopped short at the vehemence in Harry's tone. "Beg pardon?"
"Look, there's no harm in kissing on a person you find attractive. But don't lie about it." Harry tapped the table in emphasis. "You've had chemistry with him since the day you met."
Orlando sighed. It wasn't something he'd ever really thought about, at least, not consciously. Alright, maybe there was something to what Harry was saying, but fuck, he'd have to be dead not to find Sean attractive, right? Didn't have to mean anything. It didn't mean anything. Things were what they were, and that was that. "Yeah, well, he's like you, isn't he? Like Karl. We're mates. I can find someone attractive and not want to, y'know, do anything else."
"Tell him that, not me," Harry shrugged. "Unless there really is a problem."
"No." Orlando ruthlessly shoved the memory of the kisses, and the reoccurring dreams, out of his head. That was his own guilt coming back to bite him in the arse, pure and simple. "There's no problem."
"There you go, then." Harry saluted him with his glass as he sat back. "Easy enough."
Orlando stared gloomily into his own unwanted mug. He loved Harry like a brother, but sometimes, he thought Harry just didn't get the real world. "Nothing is ever that easy."
Harry's gaze didn't waver from his. "Sometimes it is."
***
It still took Orlando another day to screw up his courage and face Sean. He knew he was acting the prat, but he had to get it all sorted in his head before he said something he'd regret. He had a nasty habit of speaking before he really thought, and that just would not do in this case.
This was too important. Sean was too important.
And maybe, just maybe, Harry had a point. Not about things being simple, because things weren't simple. If kissing Sean had been a simple matter, if it had just been a simple drunken kiss between mates, Orlando wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, now would he? Wouldn't be dreaming about it after, either, now would he? Exactly.
Then again, it wasn't every day that a drunken kiss with a friend rocked his world like a bomb going off. He thought perhaps he was entitled to a little bit of equivocation.
But it could be that the reason Orlando was having issues was that there was some latent sexual attraction. God knew, it would explain so many things. It made sense that now that he was experimenting with the whole bisexual thing that he'd start to look upon his friends in a new light. That part of him would wonder 'what if'. It didn't have to mean anything, though. Because it didn't. His friendships were so much more important than scratching a momentary itch because of sexual curiosity.
Harry was right. There was no need to panic. It had been a great kiss, but now his curiosity was satisfied, they were done. It never needed to be repeated or talked about ever again. He and Sean could say their piece, slap each other on the back, move on. Stay friends.
Christ, he was so terrified he was going to bollocks up the truest friendship he'd ever had.
Still. He was an adult. And adults did the adult thing, even when it wasn't pleasant. So, Orlando pulled up on his bootstraps, remembered he had a pair, and walked over to Sean's to wait for him to come home so they could have their chat. He could do this.
Although, seeing Sean for the first time since that morning in the trailer was considerably more difficult than he'd thought. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay in his chair as Sean walked up the porch steps and stood in front of him, one brow cocked in question. Fuck, Sean looked tired. Bone-deep exhausted, with pronounced lines around his mouth, eyes that carried none of their usual sparkle and lust for life, and shoulders that looked tight with tension. But, Orlando had to admit that not sleeping certainly wasn't doing anything to take away from how ruggedly handsome Sean was...and wait. Just...wait. That wasn't...
Fuck, he absolutely should not be thinking this.
He was out of his chair like a shot. No way he could say what needed to be said sitting down. His stomach had enough butterflies, thank you.
"So, listen," he started, looking everywhere but at Sean, "about the, um...I mean, I wanted to talk to you about..."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean move towards him, and he flinched back. Sean stopped. "Look, Orlando, it's not -"
Orlando knew if he didn't interrupt Sean soon, he'd die of his own embarrassment. He would be a bloody adult about this if it killed him. "I'm sorry." He forced himself to look into Sean's eyes, to meet this head-on, because that was also what adults did. "I mean, not that I kissed you, it was a great kiss. But I shouldn't have. And not just because of Karl."
"Why not?" Sean asked, with a slight frown. He sounded genuinely flummoxed.
"We're friends." Orlando stopped. Started again. What the fuck'd happened to his carefully rehearsed speech? "I know that sounds ridiculous. I mean, of course we're friends and we're always fucking about, but it's just...we're just...it's different." Jesus, he was bollocksing the whole thing up. "Your friendship is so important to me. And I don't want to..."
"Ruin it?" Sean supplied, in the softest voice Orlando had ever heard.
"Exactly," Orlando replied, pleased that Sean understood. "Seriously, I've done some stupid things and I know that and I'm not sure what I was thinking grabbing you like that, but..."
"It's alright," Sean interrupted. This time, Orlando didn't flinch when Sean put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "T'were probably the drink."
Orlando nodded, feeling a little like a jack-in-the-box. "See, that's what I kept saying to myself. And, y'know, I have missed you." It seemed important that Sean understand that.
"I see," Sean drawled. His smile was slight as he dropped his hand. Orlando refused to think about how cold his shoulder suddenly felt.
"Good. I knew you'd understand." He shuffled forward, cleared his throat. Wondered why it was that his chest felt so constricted. "Well, um, I just...I should get a move on."
"Yeah, of course." Sean gave him another slight smile, this one looking a little less strained, and took another step back.
Orlando stopped on the bottom of the stairs, and turned. Sean was still looking a little lost, and something deep inside Orlando unfurled at the sight. He was an utter cunt, but he could still be a good friend. He hoped.
"Uh, look," he started, shoving his fists into his jeans pockets, the speech tumbling out of him in a rush. "I know I didn't say it that night, but I am sorry about the divorce. I can't imagine what you must be going through, but I just...I think you've got a fuck of a lot to offer. You're the best man I know, and I just... Don't sell yourself short, alright? And don't close yourself off from the future because you've tried and failed. Our failures are just as valuable as our triumphs, y'know?"
Sean stared at him for such a long time that Orlando was starting to think he'd overstepped the boundaries of where they were now. He shouldn't have said anything. Things between them were too fragile, Sean wasn't ready to hear it, this was such a stupid...
"Thank you," Sean finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I appreciate it."
"Well, I mean it," Orlando replied, his smile tremulous. The butterflies returned in full force. "You want to pop over to pub and have a pint?"
"Can't," Sean answered, looking apologetic. It helped to ease some of the sting of the rejection. "I need to look over these new pages for tomorrow or Peter'll have my hide. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yeah, of course." Stupid to have thought that it would have been that simple, no matter what Harry'd said. Orlando took two defeated shuffled steps away before Sean's voice stopped him.
"Breakfast in the morning, then?"
Orlando had no idea why he felt like crying, but his eyes were prickling with unshed tears and his voice was clogged with emotion when he turned back to Sean. Who was looking back at him with an expression that Orlando couldn't quite place. "Sounds aces," he said, and waited for Sean to nod in agreement and step inside his house before turning away again.
Christ, he'd be glad when things were back to normal.
(To Be Continued)